Second Chances
by derekbelcher
Summary: After a lifetime of horror in her first 17 years of life, Katniss is back in her home district without a sister, a mother, without anyone. She has lost all that was important, a price for leading the rebellion. But will life reward her with a second chance she never counted on? This story is post MJ - Pre Epilogue. It is based on my previous story: Small Steps.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **This story will expand on the "life after the fall of the Capitol". I have read so many great fan fics about the post MJ time period and will no doubt be influenced by a lot of what I have read. I have spent countless hours imagining what it must have been like to go from complete hopelessness to being able to watch the children you never intended play happily in a world you never envisioned.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**Second Chances | Hopelessness**

_Prologue_

My name is Katniss Everdeen. For a brief period in my life, I was known as Katniss Mellark. At the age of 17 years old, I married a boy that saved my life when I was 11 years-old. We were virtually strangers, but had been led to one another by a power beyond this world.

We lived in a ruthless world controlled by an oppressive regime simply known as _The Capitol_. We were subjected to a horror known as The Hunger Games, and it was during that tragic period of our lives that our feelings spilled out and we began an ill-fated relationship. The _victors_, or winners of these games were supposed to live a life of luxury and easiness, but fate would not allow us to enjoy the spoils of that victory. No, we were thrust back into the nightmare of another set of games. Only this time, we entered the arena as husband and wife, each trying desperately to give their life to protect the other.

After an uprising staged by the long-forgotten district 13, we were separated and that is when our lives spun out of control. Peeta was captured by the Capitol and subjected to punishment and torture that is far worse than death. They raped his mind of his memories and implanted warped versions of those memories. Most of the warped implantations were exclusively about me, or _us._

It was during that torture that I lost my husband. He is physically alive, but has no recollection of a life spent with me, or of the solemn vows we exchanged in a private toasting ceremony one night. Though we made it back to a place where we could be around one another, he is lost to me forever. I let go of the promises we made to one another and assumed my original name and place in this world.

My only purpose was to protect my family from a future of torture and hardship. I would eliminate the root of all of our evil – President Snow. But there was another twist to this story. During my time in district 13 and getting to know the soon-to-be new President of Panem, I quickly realized that she was no better than what we had. She had a personal agenda that closely resembled what we have lived with for my entire life and before.

But I failed in my only purpose. I failed to protect my only sister. Answering her call to help anyone and everyone, stranger or not, she gave her life at the hands of an attack orchestrated by the very people I trusted the most. My best friend whom I had discovered had a dark side to his personality had a hand in taking the only person I ever loved before Peeta. My father, my sister and for all intent and purpose my mother were gone. I was alone.

So in a moment of clarity, with the object of my hate bound before me awaiting a solemn arrow that would send him from this world, I instead aimed _higher_ and saved the future of our nation by assassinating the new President.

My last act of love was to save my fellow citizens from an all too familiar future. My plan was executed perfectly, but my exit was taken from me – by _him._

So now I am a prisoner awaiting my sure execution for an unspeakable crime. I don't care. I am hopeless. I have lost the will to survive and pray daily for my death to descend upon me. I am damaged beyond repair, both physically and mentally.

So each day, I wait.

**A/N:** This prologue was necessary to bridge my earlier stories: _Small Steps_ and _The Next Games_. In those stories, I explored the idea of Katniss discovering her true feelings for Peeta after the 74th Hunger Games. This story will follow the days, months and years that followed the fall of the Capitol. The original story by SC is still in place, just with the small twists I put in place in my other two fan fics. So this is the background that will hopefully help things make more sense when I reference the _love before_.


	2. Hopelessness

**A/N: **This story will expand on the "life after the fall of the Capitol". I have read so many great fan fics about the post MJ time period and will no doubt be influenced by a lot of what I have read. I have spent countless hours imagining what it must have been like to go from complete hopelessness to being able to watch the children you never intended play happily in a world you never envisioned.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**Hopelessness**

It feels like it has been weeks since I was banished to my prison cell in the training center. It was the same room I had used in my previous stays before each game, but now it was my prison.

How hard could it be to simply issue a guilty verdict of committing murder? I shot the President of Panem in front of thousands of witnesses. Should be a pretty open and shut case, yet here I wait.

I have given up on life. I stopped eating, at least tried to, until the hunger was more than I could bare and I gave in and gorged myself on whatever was still in my room.

I even thought about hording my medication and taking it all at one time for a lethal overdose, but the amounts have been steadily decreasing and I don't think they were ever powerful enough to be fatal.

There is nothing in my room to help me in my endeavor to commit suicide, so I will just pray for a guilty verdict and sure execution.

Then one day, the door bursts open and I am looking at a worn down Haymitch.

"What do you want," I snarl?

"You are free to go, I am here to escort you out of this place," he replied while throwing clothes in my general direction. "Get dressed sweetheart and let's get moving," he added.

I just sit on the edge of the bed staring at him. I must really be mentally disabled. I can't process what he is saying to me.

"Let me try again. Move your ass now. I haven't had a drink in about 48 hours and I have no patience left with you. Move now or I will drag you out of here in that paper gown," he screams at me.

I oblige his request. I am still confused, but will play along.

I drag on the clothes and notice for the first time just how painful my new body is. I was burned severely during the final bombing that took place when the Capitol fell, but thanks to the marvels of modern science, I am the proud owner of _mutt_ skin.

I laughed a little when I saw myself for the first time. I looked very similar to the aliens that were known as citizens of the Capitol except they chose to look like multi-colored freaks.

Walking out of the room, I find an obviously pissed-off Haymitch glaring at me and without a word, he turns and starts to walk toward an open door at the end of the hallway.

"Haymitch, where are we going and why are they letting you take me out of here," I asked?

"I will explain it later, we just need to go," was all he replied.

We climbed a set of stairs and I was blinded by a light – the sunlight. We were on the roof the training center. My heart hurt a little as I quickly remembered the last time I was up here.

But instead of a lush garden and beautiful sunset, there is only a blinding light and a hovercraft waiting for us to board.

Once inside, I am met by Plutarch Havensbee and several other people I don't really care to try and recall. Plutarch tells me that he is sure I must be confused but there will be plenty of time to fill me in on our trip _home._

We are instantly up in the air and zooming away from the Capitol when he turns to me and begins to speak.

"Katniss, I am sure you have a lot of questions, but let me try and fill you in on the super brief version of what has happened in the last week," he said.

So it has only been one week since I was banished to that room? It felt like months to me.

"After you shot Coin, there was an obvious flurry of panic and commotion. Most of the people who witnessed it assumed you had made a grave misjudgment of aiming and accidentally killed her. Then some began to implicate that you had planned to do it all along. That is what prompted you being _detained._ There was an immediate trial set up to determine if you were guilty of the crime of murder. I testified as did many of those who knew you and we all painted the picture of a girl who had lost everything she ever knew. The court found you not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. They didn't really know what to do with you and Haymitch stepped up and volunteered to take you back to your home district. So that is where we are headed. You have been _sentenced_, so-to-speak, to your home district with the stipulation that you are not allowed to leave, at least not for the foreseeable future. Oh and Commander Paylor, you remember her from district 8, is the new President of Panem," he blurted out in only a few breaths.

So my only hope of a sure death by the hands of the Capitol diminished due to my lack of mental capacity. That was just icing on the cake. I was too screwed up to even be killed like a normal human being.

"So are you supposed to be my guard," I directed toward Haymitch.

"No, I wanted the hell out of that place and it just worked out for the best of both of us," he replied.

"When we get back you're on your own," he added.

Plutarch spoke up, "you will be expected to participate in phone interview sessions with Dr. Aurelius once a week, and personally, I think they will lift your travel restrictions after a little time has passed."

"What about my mother," I asked?

Haymitch reached into his coat pocket and produced a white envelope with my name on it. I didn't need to open it. I was going to be living alone.

My mother had such a hard time coming to terms with my father's death. Now losing Prim…I feel my heart rip in half at the thought of what I just said in my head. I know she can't come home, not to this place.

The ghosts will haunt her to no end. I would just be a reminder of why it all happened. It actually works out best, because there will be no one left to keep me from taking my own life.

When we land in the Victor's Village, Plutarch shouts something about keeping in touch and Haymitch and I walk off toward our respective homes.

"What happened to Gale," I ask over my shoulder.

"Got some fancy government job in District 2," he answers just as he walks through his front door.

That figures, Gale is now working for the institution that he most despised. No, it's not the Capitol that we hated, but it's still the idea that he turned to that lifestyle rather than returning to an open life in the woods.

I wrote him off before I shut the door. Actually, I had written him off the minute I connected the bombs that took her away from me to that dark side I discovered when we were fighting in District 2 and he put forth the plan to cause the massive avalanche that killed so many.

I looked around the kitchen and made my way to a chair at the end of the table. I don't know why I am waiting to take my life. There are so many options, but something keeps me firmly glued to this chair

It's hopelessness. My life has become so hopeless that I don't even know how to plan my death. I am not sure that I can remember how to breathe and how to put one foot in front of the other.

This is what my mother must have felt like when I didn't understand her illness. I was so hard on her and unforgiving. Now, I was her.

I just stare at the walls. I don't even know what the day is and I don't really care. I must have dosed off, because I am startled when the back door opens and Greasy Sae walks in with a couple bags.

She doesn't say a word, only nods in my direction and begins banging pots and pans on the stove.

Eventually the aroma of food fills the air and my mind begins to try and rouse the rest of me to eat. Like a robot I pick up the spoon and absently slosh one spoonful after the other into my mouth until the bowl is empty.

Sae doesn't say anything at all. She just gets up from her chair and takes my bowl. She gathers her things and heads for the door saying something about seeing me in the morning.

Hours pass, the room gets dark and I still haven't moved. I feel the urge to pee, but don't think I have the energy or motivation to get up. Thankfully, the desire to not sit in wet pants overrides my lack of motivation and I make my way to the bathroom.

When I come out, I find the couch and collapse into a deep slumber.

The nightmares are horrid. I keep seeing bombs exploding and bits and pieces of everyone I ever knew are flying at me from every direction. I hear their screams so loud I am sure my own mind will explode from the noise and pressure.

When I wake up, I realize the sun has started to rise and I can smell bacon and eggs cooking. True to her word, Sae has returned and I realize that she must have been tasked to ensure I am at least eating.

Thankfully, she doesn't pressure me to do much of anything else.

This is our routine for the next few weeks. I eat breakfast and pile up on the couch until she calls me to dinner. Sometimes I don't make it away from the table, and instead wake up still sitting in the same chair the next morning.

Sae never really says much. She talks about how folks are returning to the district and how they are slowly rebuilding some of the places in town. I don't care.

One day, Sae talks about how the trees are all starting to bloom and I realize that it's spring. I used to love the dawning of each spring. It meant more time to hunt and be out in the woods.

Sae tells me I should think about getting out of the house. For the first time since I have returned, I reply, "I will think about it."

"Good," was all she said in reply.

I realize that I am becoming more aware of what's happening around me because I hear the telephone ringing. My look of puzzlement is not unnoticed by Sae and she says it has been ringing off the hook just about every other day.

I also begin to realize that I have completely let myself go in…how many days? "You have been back for about four weeks now," she said.

A full month and I am still wearing the same clothes that I put on when I left the capitol. That's gross. Yet, I still don't find the motivation to do anything about it.

The next morning, my nightmare is interrupted by sounds outside. It sounds like a shovel digging in the ground. I thought it was part of the nightmare where everyone I ever knew was helping to bury me alive. It seemed so real, but I realize that the real digging must have just compounded the _pretend_ digging in my head.

I don't understand why this made me curious, but I get up and make my way toward the front door. I realize that there is a small mountain of unopened mail that has been pushed through the slot in the door.

_I have really been out of It for a while now_ I think to myself.

When I open the door, I step outside and see Haymitch's house to my right across the lane. I wonder if he is still alive.

I hear the shovel plunge into the ground again and avert my attention back to the direction of the sound. Walking around the front of the house, I look around the corner and see a neat row of bushes freshly planted along the side of my house.

It takes a few moments for my mind to register what I am seeing, but then a horror fills my entire being. They are roses. I have a flashback to the last time I saw Snow, when he convinced me that the death of Prim had been the result of the rebels doing, not his.

He was in a room filled with roses, but not like these. I snap back to the present when their name fills my thoughts – _Primroses._ My terror turns to grief for a brief moment until I fix my eyes on the planter.

His eyes meet mine, and I see beads of sweat that have formed on his brow.

I am staring into an abyss of blue, a shade that is like none other. I am looking at Peeta.

"I found these at the edge of the forest and thought I would plant them for her," he said.

He becomes blurry as I try to focus on his words and look between his eyes and the bushes. _For her_ I think and I am consumed with a raw grief that is magnified by the guilt of not thinking of a way to honor her myself.

"Thank you," is all I can muster and I turn and run back into my house. I don't even make it to the couch before I collapse to the ground as waves of tears flow from my eyes. For the first time since she was so violently taken from me, I am truly broken and let it all out.

I cried for hours and hours at each memory and thought of her sweet smiling face. I cried for all the things she never knew or would ever experience.

When there were no more tears to fall, I started to think of Peeta again. I immediately became self-conscious and wandered what I must have looked like to him. _He thought I was a mutt before? I am sure he thinks so now_ I think to myself.

It's funny, but when I start to think of him, I can't help but remember all the funny things about her. I remember thinking about how the creations at the bakery would make her eyes light up – his creations.

I remember how her eyes would sparkle when we moved into the new house and he would bring warm cookies or some kind of sugary candy just for her. He loved her and even though the Capitol had really messed with his mind, he was still remembering that bond he had built with her.

It was in that moment that the hopelessness started to fade, just a little. For the first time since I had returned, I climbed the stairs toward my room. I slowly stripped out of my pants and shirt then my underwear.

I decided those clothes were to be retired to the trash and I stepped into the shower.

I was reminded of how broken my body was when the water caused my skin to sizzle. After some temperature adjustment I was able to wash a month's worth of grime off my body and detangle the remnants of hair that remained on my head.

When I stepped out, I felt a little lighter in my step. I found some fresh clothing and braided my wet air into a single braid.

At the bottom of the steps I realized Sae had arrived to prepare dinner. I thanked her for looking after me and smiled a little at the look of shock that spread across her face. This was the first time I had spoken to her with more than three or four words since I returned.

After dinner, Sae wandered out the back door and instead of just collapsing on the couch, I watched and realized she left my house and headed for Peeta's.

I wandered around the house for a few minutes, poking my head into the unused study and having a painful memory of my meeting with Snow. I quickly retreated back to the living room and walked down the hallway toward the back room.

It was in this room that I found the box with my father's old hunting jacket, my hunting boots, my father's plant book and my parents wedding photo. In the corner of the room stood a bow with a generous layer of dust gathered on it.

I slipped into the jacket and made my way back to the couch. I breathed in the scent of the worn leather and watched as the flames from the gas fireplace danced around the logs.

I wasn't clear on why today had changed me, however little it may have been, but somehow I knew that I had to find a way to go on. I had to find a way to live, if for nothing more than to honor Prim's sacrifice.

I had to put the hopelessness behind me and instead search for a path that was brighter than where I have come from – a path that is filled with the radiant hope that made Prim who she was.

I have no idea how or where to begin, but for the first time in a long time I feel a small tinge of peace.

**A/N: Well, there we go – we're off on this adventure of discovering how Katniss went from nothing to live for to watching her children playing in the meadow. I am excited to see how this story plays out. I am hoping you will take the time to review and provide your insight on where I am and where you would like me to go. I have a general idea, but there are so many fans of the HG out there and I am sure that each of us has our own interpretation of how post MJ played out.**


	3. Light in the Darkness

**A/N: **This story will expand on the "life after the fall of the Capitol". I have read so many great fan fics about the post MJ time period and will no doubt be influenced by a lot of what I have read. I have spent countless hours imagining what it must have been like to go from complete hopelessness to being able to watch the children you never intended play happily in a world you never envisioned.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**Light in the Darkness**

For the first time since I left for the quarter quell, I awoke in my bed. It was still well before dawn, but the nightmare had been too much too bear. They were all the same. The faces of so many lost souls and in the end, _her._

I don't know that I will ever be able to achieve a restful night's sleep again. I haven't had one since…well since the trains.

Laying here in the darkness, my mind begins to wander to the life I left behind. I can't clearly focus on any one thought. The weight of the grief begins to crush my soul as I am reminded of all that I lost.

I knew yesterday's small glimmer of hope was too much to count on. I am spiraling back down toward the pit of darkness that threatens to be my new normal.

The room seems so stuffy and the thin fabric of my nightgown is clinging to my sweating skin. After another five minutes of arguing with myself, I force my feet off the edge of the bed and make my way to the window.

After some negotiating with the lock in the darkness, I manage to lift the window and the cool spring night air rushes into the space around me.

With that rush of air, is the unmistakable fragrance of a fresh evening primrose. The tears spill down my cheeks as I see her sparkling blue eyes and flowing blonde hair. But this image isn't the haunting devastation that comes to me each night. Instead, it is a soft glowing thought of how I remember her before I was reaped.

So full of life and a sense of adventure. Not the adventure that I would take in the depths of the woods, but the adventure that each new day of life brought forth. Prim could see the light in any amount of darkness.

Yes, she was scared like any other human being living in this world would be, especially a child, but somehow her aura blinded away the depths of despair and you couldn't help but bask in the glow of her radiance.

Through my tears, I forced my lips into a smile. I silently wrapped my heart around this memory and hoped that it would be the way I would always remember her.

In my moment of inner reflection, I hadn't noticed the light spilling across the yard from next door. Honestly, I had not realized that the house beside of mine was occupied.

Haymitch lived on the other side of my house and across the lane. Peeta…he lived two houses up from Haymitch but on my side of the lane. So who was this new resident? I realized that anyone could be living in the village now as there are no stipulations of having to be a victor.

Just as I was about to turn away, I caught a glimpse of him walking past his window. Peeta was in that house. I couldn't take my eyes off his window. With no lights on in my room, I was easily hidden in the shadows of the night.

I wasn't sure why I was staring at him. Trying to remember I guess. I watched as he ran his hands through the locks of blonde that spilled around his face. His eyes were focused and pleasantly bright, not the clouded version I remember when he tried to kill me.

My heart took over my train of thought and for a moment I remembered the feelings that I had for him at one time. That period of my life seems so far away. If I thought we were too different before, there was no hope for us now. Not even as friends.

Yet, watching him as he worked in, what I assumed must be, his kitchen I couldn't help but imagine what our life might have been like had we made it out of the war intact.

Would we have searched for our true happily ever-after? Who knows. I snap out of my mini-trance and make my way back to my bed. I know that I can't let my thoughts be consumed with wishing for what will never be.

After another hour or two, and with the approaching dawn of a new day, I get back up out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet I find the ordinary bathroom contents and a few medical jars that I don't recognize.

I look around the room and realize that I am fortunate to still have a home here. It is an empty home, but it is still a shelter. I decide to add that realization to my short list of things that I am thankful for. Things that are not part of my nightmares.

That list contains the memory of Prim that I had a few hours ago and now the realization that I am lucky to have a good place to call home.

After a quick shower, a rushed braiding of my hair and the donning of fresh clothes, I make my way downstairs.

Greasy Sae must have arrived when I was in the shower, because I didn't hear her come in. She is heating up some sort of mystery stew.

I cross the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard and that's when I spot the basket on the counter. "What's this," I ask?

"Found it on the porch when I came in this morning," Sae replied.

Curiosity got the best of me and I unwrapped the dish towel covering its contents. To my surprise I found a basket full of fresh bread. The smell of cinnamon permeates the air. Upon closer inspection, I realize that it's not just any bread, but fresh cheese rolls.

Sae's eyes brighten a little and she says, "this will go well with the stew, now sit down child and eat."

I don't argue and I add this moment to my short list – fresh bread.

As if a momentary bit of déjà vu, I am inspired by this small gift of bread to venture out of my house today. I grab my father's jacket and open the backdoor.

The air is slightly cool, but the soft blue of the clear sky hints at a warm spring day approaching. I slowly start to make my way down the lane of the village.

There is an unmistakable sound of construction that is coming from the distance ahead and I remember Sae telling me something about the rebuilding of the town.

As I get closer to the town, my anxiety level kicks into overdrive. When I meet the first pair of eyes that look my direction, I nearly collapse.

Though no one says it, I convince myself that everyone who sees me today hates me and blames me for having to rebuild.

My small act of rebellion brought on all this turmoil and devastation. With each new pair of eyes the guilt gets heavier and heavier. Finally, I can't take it anymore and begin to run behind the former store fronts and toward the perimeter fence.

The fence is still standing, but it is long since been electrified. There is no reason to keep anyone _in_ only to keep wild animals and dangers of the forest out.

I don't stop running until I am safely concealed in the forest covering. It is there, that I drop to my knees and begin to gasp for air. My breathless state is mostly due to the lack of physical conditioning, but a part of me is on the verge of hyperventilating because of the guilt.

After a few precious minutes, my senses begin to take in the surroundings. I find a small clearing beneath a few tall oak trees and lay down, just staring up at the tree canopy.

The first squirrel catches my eye and I follow its sporadic journey from tree limb to tree limb. After a few revolutions around the tree trunk, I catch site of the other squirrel and recognize this as a moment of play between the two creatures.

I rise up on my elbows and continue to survey my surroundings and notice the fawn that is gingerly walking along the hillside directly across from me.

The soft fur and bright white markings are intriguing. The thought that flirts with my mind is rebirth. Slowly the feelings of guilt begin to ebb and I am filled with calmness. I add this to the list. The memory of my sweet sister Prim, the good home I am privileged to own, the small miracle of the gift of bread and now the peacefulness of the new life.

When I look back toward the tops of the trees I can see the rays of light that are poking through the openings. The air is saturated with almost invisible particles of dust, pollen and whatever else the forest holds. These particles shimmer in the individual beams as they stream through the trees.

That is what I compare my growing list to, those fine rays of light in the otherwise dark shaded forest. I close my eyes and imagine that Prim and my father, and all those that I have lost in my life are riding on those rays, warming my soul.

I know that this won't be an easy road. I will have to force myself to put one foot in front of the other from now on. I am sure of that. I can't imagine anything that would erase the painful feelings of surviving when so many others are gone.

The rumble of my stomach tells me that I have spent enough time here and I get up and begin to move back toward the meadow. It must have been an instinctive retreat because I am standing at the same entry point that I used all those years I lived in the seam.

What I wasn't ready for is the new landscape. Gone is the lush green grass with wild flowers blooming and blowing in the breeze. Now, I am staring at a mound of dirt piled impossibly high. What I see next threatens to bring me to my knees.

A team of men, no one that I recognize, is slowly – agonizingly carrying white-wrapped linens and placing them in what appears to be a large pit. It takes longer than it should to realize what I am seeing, but it registers – a mass burial grave.

Even though I am in the open air of the field and the sun is shining brightly around me, I feel my world closing in, darkness all around. I bend at the waist, placing my hands on my knees and force methodical breaths in and out.

I try to avert my gaze as I put one foot forward and then another, reaching for the fence line, but I can't. Even when I close my eyes I see the unmistakable human shapes covered by each death shroud. Each time they go to the cart and pull another lifeless soul, I feel a small stab in my chest.

I don't know what I expected them to do with all the bodies of those that didn't escape the destruction of our district. Maybe I thought that they had been consumed by the flames. It occurs to me that when I re-visited the district after my rescue from the arena, I was probably walking right past some of these bodies.

This most recent encounter has been too much and I finally give up and sink to my knees and then my bottom on the side of the road. There are no tears. I don't feel worthy to be saddened by this loss. I am just fatigued.

When the cart comes to a halt beside me, it takes me a few minutes to recognize his face. Thom. I don't recall his last name, but I know this is Thom. He was a friend of Gale's. I think they worked on the same shift in the mines. He helped the men carry Gale to my house after he was publicly punished for poaching.

"Katniss…is that you," he said?

I just nod my head. I can't imagine what I must look like now. I am a little embarrassed, but vanity has never been my thing.

"Can I give you a ride back to town, you look really tired," he says.

He helps me up to my feet and I climb in the cart. It is eerie to be in the same cart that just had so many bodies in it, but my exhaustion wins out, so I just close my eyes.

Once I am back to the entrance of the Victor's Village, I thank Thom for his help and make my way toward my house.

When I left this morning, I had every intention of visiting Haymitch. I have not spoken to him since we arrived back in 12. That thought is long gone now. My head hurts and my heart is an emotional roller coaster.

All I can think of is collapsing on the couch and trying to purge my mind of the painful memories that filled it this afternoon.

I am almost at the front gate of my house when I hear his voice behind me. I don't turn around. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Katniss, are you alright," Peeta says.

I turn around to face him. It was just a little over a year ago that we stood in this same area, and I poured out my heart, at least as much of it as I could, and confessed to him that I did have feelings for him.

That seems like an eternity ago. But standing here, I see small signs that remind me of the Peeta I once knew. The Peeta that professed his undying love for me in front of a nationally televised audience. His eyes are the deepest blue, endless pools of eternity. His skin looks much like mine. It should, he was in the same place I was when the bombs that…I can't finish the thought.

His expression tells me that I have let too much time pass between his question, and I blink myself back into the present.

"I have…I went to the woods today and I just overdid it I guess," I managed to say through a scratchy voice.

Peeta is now the one searching for words. How is it possible that in so little time we have come full circle to the two people that couldn't form enough words for a small conversation? Then I remember, he isn't the same person. No one is the same anymore.

"Well that's good. I think you must like it out there," he says. His hands have found the back of his head and are brushing at the locks of hair. This is what he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

For a moment, my hunter's instinct begins to kick in and I am thinking of turning and walking away. Partly because I am afraid he may be thinking of a way to hurt me. But the blue orbs that are penetrating my soul are not threatening. There is warmth there.

"I am going to rebuild my parent's bakery," he says with a note of optimism. "It's all I seem to know how to do, and it helps…"

"That's nice," I say in reply. I realize this is the longest conversation we have had in months and it seems so guarded and uncomfortable. I am sure it is me with that impossible wall I built around my heart when I lost him. But something in this moment makes me long for a peace and maybe even a friendship with him.

_Why not?_ I think to myself. What is the harm in befriending Peeta? I remember my words when we were trudging through the Capitol, when I told him that _we save each other, that's what we have always done_.

I don't know that Peeta needs saving, but I can't help but wonder what it must be like to have blocks of darkness in your memories.

"Oh, Dr. Aurelius said to tell you that he can't keep pretending to treat you forever…or something like that," he said.

It occurs to me that he must be treating Peeta's hijacking. Does that mean that they are discussing me during their phone conversations?

As if he could read my mind, Peeta chimes in, "It's not that we talk about you, he just asked me to pass it along if I ever ran in to you sometime."

"Well, I will let you go, I have some things to take care of in town, goodbye," he said and turned to walk toward the town square.

In the moments that follow, I feel _empty_. As if the heat of the day is following Peeta as he walks away from me. That's the heart. My foolish heart that opened me up for a level of hurt that I never knew was possible was trying to pull me into another hopeless realm.

Inside the house, I headed for the stairs, intent on cleaning up before Sae arrived for dinner. I noticed the mail that was scattered about in front of the door. It had formed a small mountain until I displaced it to investigate the noises outside when Peeta planed the primroses.

I gathered it all up, and put it into a neat pile on the kitchen table, then headed up stairs for that shower.

Once I was free of the forest grime, I made my way back downstairs. I poured a glass of water and sat down at the end of the table and began to sort through the mail.

There were many notices from the Capitol about new happenings, laws, constitutions, and so on. We were a rebuilding nation. We had survived an internal conflict that threatened to wipe us from the face of the earth, and now people were diligently working to ensure it never happened again.

I wondered, as I sat there, if this is how it went when the first uprising happened. Was there any level-headed individual that fought for a peaceful solution? Seeing how the Hunger Games were born out of that revolution, I decided the answer was no.

There were numerous letters from Dr. Aurelius. I opened them one by one and read the short notes. Mostly asking about my progress, begging me to please answer my phone from time to time and then the last one was lengthier.

It read:

_Dear Katniss,_

_I am writing you today to, once again, check on your progress. I really do wish you would answer your phone. I have continued to file reports on our "sessions", but I do honestly care about your recovery, so please think about it. I am also writing to inform you that I have cleared Peeta to leave the Capitol. Normally I wouldn't tell anyone about a patient's prognosis, but seeing how you two share such a vivid past, I wanted to let you know a few things. First of all, Peeta has a lot of confused memories. It should come as no surprise that these memories are mostly about you. Some of the other tainted memories have been greatly restored through our sessions together. What seems to help him the best is just having someone to answer his questions. It was this observation that led me to give him my blessing of approval when he said that he really just wanted to go back to District 12. I assure you that I see no signs of extreme violence or anything that would make me fear for your safety. He does experience episodes where his mind fights internally, but he has made remarkable progress and appears able to handle these without any violent tendencies. Katniss, I know that you have lost a lot. You have had to endure so much in your short life, and I know that deep down you may be struggling the most with losing Peeta, or at least the Peeta you had come to know. I think you two could help each other, possibly even more than I could help either one of you. I encourage you to reach out and be a friend for Peeta. He has given me every indication that he desires that from you as well._

_Until next time,_

_Dr. A._

So, they did talk about me in their conversations. At least while he was being treated at the Capitol. I reread the letter two more times and with each word, felt a little piece of the wall around my heart chip away.

Something welled up inside my heart that resembled purpose. In all the time since I lost my family, I have been searching for my purpose. In the last several hours, so many things have happened that are pointing to living my life.

Now with this letter, I feel that I have another angle to that purpose. I trampled Peeta's love for me when we first discovered one another. I slowly repaired that through what must have been an agonizing process for him. I shared a glimmer of happiness with him only to have it ripped away from me.

Instead of pining for his love and never giving up on him, I let him go. I let him lean on his own devices and offered no help.

Now I know that there is a chance for redemption. I can't bring back those faces that are lying in the ground in the meadow. I can't restore Prim's radiant soul and there is nothing I can do to repair the emptiness in my mother's heart, but I can reach out to the one person that put me at the top of his world.

Even if he doesn't want me in that place anymore, I can be what he _needs_ me to be – his friend. I purpose my heart to be the light in the darkness of Peeta's memories and to help him recover. I don't know why I have been given a second chance, but I know I owe it to everyone that sacrificed their life for me and the new world I get to live in.

After dinner, I bid farewell to Greasy Sae and reassure her that I will start bringing fresh game soon. She just smiles and tells me that she has been looking forward to it.

As I climb the stairs toward my bed, I am leery of the impending nightmares. Even with this small radiant hope, I know that it will take more time, maybe forever, before the nightmares cease to exist. But as I lay down in my bed, I recount the things that gave me hope and purpose today.

I silently whisper a thank you for the precious memory of Prim and promise myself that I will call my mother soon. I look around my room and am thankful that I have a place to lay my head. I remember the smell and taste of the warm bread this morning and smile deep within my heart at the memory of his love for me. But of all the small things that have happened today, I am most thankful for newfound purpose in my life.

**A/N: **Long chapter that covered all of one day. I know the epilogue speaks of 5,10,15 years before the children appeared…I promise this won't be a 10,000 chapter story. I just felt like there is so much foundation to be laid and so much that has to happen in her heart before she can even begin to open up again. It has been a challenge to deal with the fact that they were once totally in love. I almost abandoned my original story line for the easiness of making them fall "truly" in love for the first time, but I am up for the challenge. Reviews are welcomed!


	4. An ember beneath the ashes

**A/N: **This story will expand on the "life after the fall of the Capitol". I have read so many great fan fics about the post MJ time period and will no doubt be influenced by a lot of what I have read. I have spent countless hours imagining what it must have been like to go from complete hopelessness to being able to watch the children you never intended play happily in a world you never envisioned.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**An ember beneath the ashes**

Well, I was right about one thing. The nightmares came tonight. This time it was different though. I was walking through the meadow on a day so dark and cloudy. There was no sound.

In front of me was the pit that I had seen bodies being placed in during my excursion earlier. I was drawn to the mass grave. Without understanding, I stepped into the hole and lay down.

There were no bodies, just a massive expanse of darkness. Then one by one, each person that had died…because of me was there shoveling the dirt and ashes that make up our district.

No one spoke, but they were all there. I saw Rue's sweet angelic face with a stone-cold look of hatred, Cato's smug expression as if he were getting the last laugh and so many others.

What broke me out of the grasp of this slumber was _her_. My sweet Prim was there with tears streaming down her face. But she didn't put anything on me. She just looked at me as if her pain was magnified because of something.

I awoke screaming her name. Then the sobbing began. I cried so hard, my chest ached with each intake of breath. How would I ever come to grips with her passing? Why was I still here?

I continued to cry, softer now, rocking back and forth in my bed.

After an hour or so, I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. The faint color change in the sky outside my window told me the sun would be up soon, but I couldn't pull myself out of the bed.

I wasn't even thinking of anything, but just staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Every so often my mind would wonder to the thought of getting up, but there was an invisible weight holding me down.

After more time had passed and the sun was shining brightly through my window, I started to focus on other objects around the room. I am not really sure what I am searching for. Everything that catches my eye can't hold my attention.

When I hear the phone ringing downstairs, I am jolted out of this mind-numbing process momentarily and I realize that I need to talk to someone. I need someone to understand the pain that plagues me every day.

The phone continues to ring and I know that there is one person who I want to talk to right now. I haven't talked to her in so long. Years really, if I think about the last time we had a real conversation. I wrote her off when I was younger as a road block to my mission of keeping Prim alive and well.

I needed to talk to my mother. What must she be feeling after all that she has been through? I feel selfish for how I am acting. It's as if I have decided the world only revolves around me and my guilt and pain. Some would attribute this way of thinking to a typical teenage girl, but I have long since given up the notion that I am allowed to still behave like a child.

I know that the conversation will be painful. I am not really sure that today should be the day to have the conversation, but I know that I can't truly process my grief without including the only other person that may be suffering worse than I am.

It's funny how your mind and heart change as you grow older. When I was a little girl my heart was only for my Daddy. He was my world and I wanted nothing more than to make him happy.

When he was taken from me, there was a void in my heart. Normally the surviving parent would assume both roles and nurture the children through their grief, but my mother checked out of reality. She was depressed. I know that now and I am sure that I am experiencing, at least some of, what she was dealing with.

That void in my life was probably why I took up with Gale so easily. Not that I viewed him as my father, but every child yearns for both a male and female influence to understand how the world works. It's biological and I don't really understand it, but I know it was something I needed. It was obvious in the way seeing other kids with their dad made me feel.

Of course no one would ever know any of this because I became completely withdrawn and focused on providing for my sister.

But now I can see how I still need my parental influence in my life. I am a 17-year old girl. Soon to be 18, but nevertheless, still a child by most accounts.

Even if I don't need my mother to physically provide for me, I know that I need that relationship and I purpose in my heart to make things right, at least as much as they can be between she and I. That will start with us being open about our grief over what we have lost.

The banging of cookware in the kitchen signals that I am about to be _removed_ from my sleeping cocoon if I don't make it downstairs soon. Sae has really taken to the whole nurturing role, but I wouldn't put it past her to drag me forcefully from my depression.

She doesn't come across as one who wallows in the misery of life for too long. In her years, she has seen her fair share of pain and suffering and has decided that each day is a new opportunity and it's the only thing we can count on.

When I hit the bottom of the stairs and turn the corner, I can't help but notice the basket on the counter. I don't even have to lift the linen as I can smell the cinnamon and cheese from across the room. When I reach into the basket, I am rewarded by the warmth of obviously, just out of the oven, bread.

"Did Peeta come by," I asked?

"Sure did. Just left about 10 minutes ago. Said to tell you hello. He was headed to town to work with the builders on the bakery," Sae answered.

I haven't thanked him for bringing me my favorite baked treat the past two days. I need to be sure to do that. I am a little nervous about talking to Peeta. After we spoke yesterday, I was confused as to where his mind, or mine for that matter, was.

Sae left shortly after I finished breakfast and I decided to make a quick phone call that was long overdue. I wasn't calling my mother yet. I just needed to be in a better frame of mind – or possibly drunk to handle that.

When he answered the phone, I politely said, "Hello Dr. Aurelius…this is Katniss…Katniss Everdeen." I immediately wondered why I gave him my last name. As if he would confuse me with all the other patients named Katniss that were deranged lunatics.

"Katniss, what a surprise," he began.

Over the next hour and a half we discussed every aspect of my life that I cared to share. Some topics only got the _silent_ treatment on my end, but in his most professional manner, he said we would deal with those in due time.

When we broached the subject of Peeta he told me that he probably said too much in the letter, something about confidentiality, but that he still stood by his advice. He then inquired as to whether Peeta and I had spoken yet.

When I mentioned our conversation, I ended up spilling all my crazy emotions of fear, excitement, and tentativeness out all at once.

He assured me that this was to be expected seeing how close we had been before. He then said something that kept ringing in my head the rest of the day – "He is still the same Peeta…deep down. He just needs help finding his way back to…," and then he stopped himself before he finished the sentence.

I thanked him for talking with me and promised to call next week.

I climbed the stairs and took an impossibly long shower. When I was finished I couldn't help but notice how odd my skin looked. I was never one for spending too much time in front of a mirror, but I took a few minutes and simply stared at my body.

My, normally, olive toned skin was laced with streaks of bright pink across my shoulders and more stripes across my stomach. There was evidence that the same was on my back, though I couldn't see it, I could feel the slight irritation.

Amazingly, there was no hint of any damage to my face. That was a mystery as I was sure that I was staring straight in the direction of the…well when it happened.

I opened the medicine cabinet and, again, noticed the jars of something that seemed new and out of place. Upon examination I realized that it was some sort of lotion or cream. It smelled almost like salt water.

I know that smell from my time in district 4 and from the second arena. It then begins to click in my head that this cream may have some of the same healing qualities that the salt water and sand mixture seemed to have in the arena when we received chemical burns.

My mother was now in district 4 helping to set up a new hospital. Had she sent this to me? Just the thought of her love and nurturing caused my heart to stir and the tears to build in my eyes. I missed her.

I decided to _test_ the lotion on the strips of pink that crossed my stomach and instantly felt a cooling sensation. I then applied it to all the other places I could reach, which was just about everywhere except the center of my back.

By the time I finished my _grooming_ session, it was getting close to noon. This is not the ideal time to be heading to the woods, especially if you are trying to get game, but I needed to get back out there anyway.

I grabbed my bow and sheath of arrows, packed a few of the left over cheese buns and bottle of water and set out for the forest.

Once in my _element_, I found a comfortable spot to just relax and watch the flurry of activity. The birds were full of life today; small chipmunks scurried from trees to ground and back to trees. The forest was alive.

I enjoyed a few minutes of peaceful thought and the idea that this forest was a perfect example of the resiliency of the people in this district; in the whole nation for that matter.

We get back up and dust off the ashes of the battle, we make our peace with it and then we move forward.

Somehow, I know that I am going to be alright. Maybe not happy, but at least alright. Able to live from one day to the next. That thought should make me smile, but something just doesn't feel right about it.

In my deep reflection, I almost didn't see the two fat fox squirrels chasing each other around the tree. As if instincts took over, I raised my bow, knocked an arrow and let it fly, missing the mark I intended, but still taking down one of the squirrels.

Missing the eye, I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon honing my targeting skills. That was the first arrow I had let fly since the Capitol. My accuracy on that day is what left me _banished_ to my district. But I wasn't complaining.

When the sun started to dive for the mountain tops, I began to make the trek back toward my house. Instead of going to the fence near the village, I decided to go toward the town instead.

If I was going to live here for the rest of my days, I had to find a way to not feel so uncomfortable in the town amongst the others living here.

It was amazing to see the activity that was taking place here. There were piles of rubble still scattered in places, but there was also plenty of new construction going up as well.

The old justice building had been torn down. I am not sure if it was destroyed in the bombing or if they just decided to get rid of any trace of the oppressive Capitol. The foundation was still there, so maybe they were going to do something else with that spot.

When my eyes fell on the new building on the corner, my heart stopped for a moment. This is the spot where the former Mellark Bakery once stood. I can make out the apple tree behind the new walls. That is the tree that I clung too, desperately, when _he_ saved my life.

I started to walk toward the framed walls and that is when I notice him standing in the middle of the open area. He hasn't seen me yet. His eyes go from the paper he is holding to the expanse of space and then back to the paper.

When I am about 15 feet away I stop and he turns, catching my eye. We just stare at each other for a few seconds and then something happens that I was not expecting – maybe ever again. He smiled.

It wasn't the polite smile of an acquaintance, but the deep smile of someone that knows your soul and treasures those memories.

"Hey Peeta," I said with a little more pitch than I was expecting. I felt my cheeks flush a little. The smile that was etching across my face wasn't as forced as most.

"Hey," he replied. "What do you think? Can't really tell much now, but it's going to be pretty nice…I think," he continued.

"I am really glad that you have decided to rebuild it, it will mean a lot to the town, they all loved the wonderful bread that your…," I said but I wasn't sure I should be bringing up his family.

"It's alright, you can say their names. My family was pretty well known around here. Especially my dad," he said.

I can almost hear a voice of pride as he speaks of his father. I am reminded of how much he father was like my own. Gentle, caring and always willing to help anyone out that he could. Peeta's mother was a much different story.

Over the next few minutes, Peeta showed me around the various parts of the building. When I looked around, all I saw were exposed walls, but his eyes shone as I was sure he could picture in vivid detail how each piece of the bakery would look, right down to the colors on the walls.

When Peeta mentioned the time and getting ready for dinner, I remembered that I had fresh game in my bag. It also helped me remember that I wanted to thank him for the fresh bread.

Conversation was much easier today for some reason. Maybe it was knowing that I could be part of Peeta's therapy, even if he didn't know that I was aware of it.

I didn't really think about it, but it just seemed natural to walk with Peeta back toward the village. I couldn't help but notice a few glances from those that we passed by, and one woman, probably my mother's age, smiled and placed one hand over her heart as if she was overcome for a minute by the site of us.

I dismissed it quickly and continued walking. We didn't say a lot on the journey back home, but just before I opened the gate to my yard, I turned toward Peeta and blurted out an invitation to eat dinner at my house.

"I got a squirrel today and thought you might like to eat with me tonight," I stammered.

"Yeah, sure…that's sounds nice," he replied, a bit too quickly and with a small grin that I almost didn't notice.

"Ok then, about 7:30," I suggested?

"7:30 it is," he replied and then walked toward his own house.

Once inside, I quickly cleaned the squirrel and prepared the meat so Sae could use it when she arrived. I am not sure how much longer I can depend on her to be the cook around here. I still hadn't decided if she was doing it out of the love of her heart, or if she was on the government payroll.

When she arrived a few minutes later, I showed her the meat and she smiled and said it would be a grand treat tonight.

I then mentioned that I had invited Peeta to join us for dinner. Sae didn't say a word, but looked at me and smiled a smile that didn't have a beginning or an end on her face. She then turned back to the food prep, but the smile never left her face.

I said hello to her granddaughter and then made my way upstairs to get cleaned up.

I know that this is just dinner, but for some reason I am self-conscious of my appearance. After I get out of the shower and braid my wet hair, I reached for the normal pants and shirt, but stopped and turned toward the closet.

I have not opened this closet since I have been home. But inside I find some of the prettiest clothes I have ever seen. My heart breaks again as I know that each garment has Cinna's touch. These were clothes that he created specifically for me.

At the time that I received them, I dismissed them as part of the process of being a victor, but after the second game, and all that followed, I came to appreciate how much he cared for me and knew that he must have poured his heart and soul into each article of clothing.

The tears were falling freely on my cheeks as I felt the fabric between my fingers. I was on the edge of the emotional cliff. I could fall over to one side and be consumed with that dark depression, unable to gather myself, or I could choose to honor Cinna like I was choosing to honor all the others.

I had almost given up the thought of being able to pull myself together when I spotted the soft orange blouse. Instantly I thought of Peeta and how this was his favorite shade of orange. I wasn't thinking of how much he would like it, but rather, reminded of my new purpose to help him heal. I can't very well do that if I stand him up for dinner and regress into my darkness.

I pulled the clothes off the hanger and quickly dressed. When I made it back downstairs, there was a knock at the door.

I moved a little too quickly, giving away my excitement at seeing Peeta again, but was rewarded with another surprise when I opened the door and saw a _not so nice looking_ Haymitch.

"Well, she is alive," he slurred. Without even asking my permission, he brushed past me and walked toward the kitchen.

My initial reaction was to cut him down with heavy sarcasm, but I held my tongue. Haymitch has done so much for me and I just abandoned him after we returned. Almost 5 weeks has passed since I last saw him. I feel ashamed.

The next knock was on the back door and when I opened it, there he was. Fresh and chipper. His eyes were endlessly blue again, and his smile was mesmerizing. I almost couldn't form the words to invite him in.

It was in this small moment that I started to panic a little. My purpose or mission, if you will, was to help him heal. Yet, I was staring at him with a passion in my heart. That heart of mine would be the death of me. How quickly it is able to override the common sense of my head is beyond me.

I force myself to tone it down, mostly out of fear that I don't want to trigger a scary part of Peeta that associates anything to do with a relationship with me and the sheer terror he was subjected to during the hijacking. Slow and steady would have to be the pace if I wanted to salvage our friendship and keep him on the road to recovery.

Dinner went off without anything remarkable. There was mostly polite conversation, at least between Sae, myself and Peeta. Haymitch on the other hand was completely Haymitch. While I was doing all I could to be reserved, Haymitch was spouting off about young love, and what he would be doing if he were our age again and so on. I must have bore holes through him with my stealth glares each time he broached the subject of romance, but he never got the hint.

I stole glances at Peeta and noticed that the calmness had left his face and at times he appeared to be in conflict with himself. At one point his was making balls with his fists then flexing his fingers wide as if he was working through something.

I don't know if the tension is from the comments Haymitch is making or if he is really just becoming uncomfortable with being in my presence for so long.

Maybe we will have to resort to being friends that just casually say hello from time to time. That thought makes my heart hurt a little.

When dinner is over and Haymitch finally stumbles out the door toward his house, I am standing on the porch with Peeta.

He doesn't immediately leave, but instead walks to the hanging swing and takes a seat. Funny, I didn't even remember that we had that swing.

I pace a little nervously around the porch until he slides over indicating his offer to share the swing seat with me.

I just stare at him for a couple of seconds and then tentatively walk towards the swing. Before I sit down, he speaks up, "Katniss, I am sorry for the way Haymitch was acting; he just doesn't seem to know when to stop."

Wow, I am not expecting an apology from Peeta on Haymitch's behalf. I was the one that was prepared to tell him I was sorry about that.

"He has been in rare form the last few weeks," he continued.

It was then that I realize that Peeta has been checking in on Haymitch from time to time, probably spending a lot of time talking with him. Always the giver. Peeta's heart will never cease to amaze me. The Capitol may have turned his memories to mush, but they couldn't touch his soul.

I finally set down in the swing and we just enjoyed the warm spring night air as it gently blew through the porch.

I remembered the words in Dr. Aurelius's letter that suggested the best way for Peeta to recover was to ask questions about his memories. I wanted to initiate this in some way, but wasn't really sure how to begin the conversation. I didn't need to apparently.

"Katniss, it is so weird to be here with you right now. I am almost nervous because I don't feel like I know you, yet another part of me feels like I have known you forever," he said.

I took the opportunity.

"Give me an example of what you think you don't know, but feel like you do," I said.

"Well, a lot of my memories come from what I can find on film," he started. "I watched the games that we were in, the first time, and then the victory tour and…"

I have a feeling that this initial question session is going to get deep really quick. Now I am nervous. I wonder what video he is referring to on the tour. Is there video of us on the train itself out there somewhere? When we are in the arena, there isn't a private moment anywhere, but did that extend to the trains as well?

"Katniss, are you alright," he asks?

I realize I must not have heard what he finished saying. "I am fine, sorry, I guess I spaced out there a little bit," I said, somewhat embarrassed that I appeared uninterested.

"It's ok. We don't have to talk about this," he said.

"No, Peeta it's fine. I want to help you figure things out. Please, go on," I said.

"Well, in the videos that I watch now, and Dr. Aurelius tells me that the ones I see now are real, not manipulated, it seems like we were pretty close to one another," he says.

_That's an understatement_ I think to myself.

"Yeah, Peeta – we had become pretty good friends over that time period," I replied.

I couldn't just jump right in and tell him just how close of _friends_ we were, or that I loved him then. Part of my resistance is that impossible wall I built, and the other part is the fear of not knowing how he'll react. There is also the question of what happens next. If that knowledge of what happened before is out there in the open, then where does that leave us now? Do we just go back to being a couple? That just doesn't seem possible.

"I was hoping you would say that," he said. "There are a lot of things that I just can't quite make out in my mind. But I decided when I came back home from the Capitol that it wasn't that important for me to try and remember what used to be. It was more important for me to discover what is here now," he continued.

"Katniss, I gather that we were pretty close before all of this happened. Something inside me knows that, even if it's not exactly clear. While I may not remember exactly how we acted after the reaping, I still have memories of how I knew you growing up," he said.

I hadn't really thought about that. In their haste, neither had the Capitol. They probably targeted all the memories they could of us as _lovers_, but didn't think about destroying the foundation of that love.

"I remember watching you walk home from school. I can remember what your sister's face looked like when she would stand in front of the bakery windows. I remember the sound of your voice when you sang the valley song. Those memories are crystal clear," he said.

"Peeta, there is something I am curious about too," I replied.

One of the biggest roadblocks I was dealing with was the fear of his hijacking episodes. I don't hold a grudge against him for attacking me like he did, but that doesn't mean I really want it to happen again.

"Do you still struggle with _evil_ thoughts about…me," I spit out?

His face dropped a little and he started to wring his hands. I watched him tentatively for any sign of anger, but what I saw was hurt and remorse.

"Yes. Sometimes I have little moments where I struggle with thoughts of anger and hurt because of something I see you doing in my mind," he admitted.

"I wish that I didn't have those thoughts," he continued.

I decided to push a little, out of curiosity.

"What kind of thoughts," I asked?

"Sometimes I see you dropping that nest of tracker jackers on me and think that you may still want to kill me. Other times I see you kissing Gale and for some reason that seems to upset me too," he says.

"But believe me when I tell you that I would never do anything to hurt you. I fight through them and if they are too much to bear I just go into my bedroom stay there on my bed until it has passed. Sometimes just gripping a piece of furniture really hard seems to relieve the tension. It happens more than I would like for it to, but Dr. Aurelius seems to think that it will get better as more time passes," he says.

"Well it's getting late, I am sure you are exhausted. I should get home. Thank you for dinner tonight. I really had a good time," he says as he stands up.

"I enjoyed it to. We should do it again," I reply.

When I stand up, I realize he hasn't moved and we are only six inches or so apart. Instinct, old habits or whatever is to blame, but I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him into a hug. I am not sure if he moved after I did, or if he had the same thought, but we shared an embrace that seemed impossible to ever let go of.

In a flash, my heart is melting, tears have formed in the corner of my eyes and I can feel the emotional tidal wave rolling through my body. I will myself not start into a fit of crying, but the tremble in my hands and chest doesn't stop.

I can't look up at him. I am afraid that I will see confusion and cloudiness. I don't think I could take that right now. I have longed for this touch. I know that.

His lips on my forehead, so soft and delicate give me the answer to my fearful question of how is he handling this intimacy.

"Katniss, I am sorry if I am upsetting you. I just had to feel you in my arms. I needed to remember what it was like to hug you like I did in those videos," he said – his voice trembling.

After all we have been through, all the ways we have touched each other, nothing beats that first hug. While I know that this is not the first time we have hugged one another, I realize it is the first time in this new beginning we are both experiencing.

I feel like I have a true friend in my life again, and it is the peaceful moment of this day that I will hold on to and treasure.

"So, would you like to have dinner again tomorrow," I say, half smiling.

"I was hoping you would ask. I think I could have dinner here every night," he replied.

"I think Sae would approve, seeing how she has been coming over to cook for me every night just like she has for you," he added.

We owe a lot to that woman. We owe a lot to more people than we can count. But this debt burden doesn't feel like the ones I had before I went to the games. I don't feel like I need to pay them off immediately and forget about them. No, I feel like I need to cherish their meaning and be thankful for them each day of my life.

I don't know what's in store for Peeta and I, but I am thankful that I have my friend by my side. I silently pray, after we part ways, that somehow the tenderness we shared tonight will stay in my subconscious and help battle the nightmares.

_I am running through the meadow again. It is dark and gloomy like it was before and I see my destination in front of me. The pit of souls – that mass grave. Again it's empty and I know that I have to lay down in it again. One by one they come by and continue the process of burying me alive. They have such pained expressions on their face tonight. I try to scream but the ashes fill my mouth. Then she is there again – Prim. Though all the others are silent, she speaks. Her voice is like that of an angel. She looks so sad, but her voice…_

"_Katniss, I love you. Please don't forget…," she says._

_I don't wake up, I just lay there in that hole. The people leave and I am able to pull myself out of the dirt and climb up the side. _

The light streams through my window in my bedroom. I open my eyes and glance around. I am not sure if I am still in the dream or not. It was scary, but the ending was no violent and I didn't wake trembling. No, this is different.

I can't get her voice out of my head. _Don't forget_ is what she had said before she was gone again. I keep repeating that over and over.

I don't want to forget any of them. I don't think I ever could forget them. Especially not if they keep coming into my dreams and nightmares every night.

I get out into the woods earlier today, and begin to hunt like I used to hunt. I am hunting without worrying about my life right now. I am focused and the full game bag later that afternoon is evidence that it was good for me.

I decide to head home the same way I did the day before. I like seeing the rebuilding of the town, and while I don't expect it has changed all that much in one day, I have another motive as well.

When I near the bakery, Peeta is in discussions with a group of builders. He spots me and excuses himself from the discussion.

"Hey you," he says.

"Hi. I didn't mean to bother you, just wanted to say hello on my way to the house. I had a good day today. Lots of game. Sae will be very excited," I say.

"I am glad you came by. We have a lot of equipment coming in a few days, and I'm just trying to make sure we are ready to handle it," he says.

"Are we still on for dinner," he adds?

The smile on my face is a dead giveaway of how much it meant to hear him say he was still coming to dinner.

"Of course, 7 o'clock," I said.

"Good, I will see you there," he said and as he did, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder ever so slightly.

I turned toward the village and walked with a newfound bounce to my step.

We enjoyed dinner that night, maybe more so because Haymitch decided not to bless us with his presence. We talked about the rebuilding and about our hopes for the future of the country.

The conversation migrated back to some question and answer stuff, mostly about activities that happened during the games and in the time between the games. Nothing uncomfortable, just mostly reassuring him that he had captured the right interpretation of the memory.

This new routine continued for the next two weeks. I would hunt during the morning and into the afternoon. I would gather berries and herbs before heading home, always through town. I would stop and say hello at the bakery and had even began to have small conversations with some of the others that have moved back.

We would eat dinner together at night and just enjoy each other's company before parting ways late in the evening.

This was nice, but was still lacking. There was something missing from the routine, something that my heart was yearning for, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it just yet.

My nightmares continued to be _weird_ like the one I had right after Peeta and I shared that first hug. I continued to battle over the plea from Prim to _never forget_. I mentioned this nightmare to Dr. Aurelius during one of our weekly conversations and he said it was probably just my minds way of dealing with the fear of forgetting small details of loved ones lives.

It was during this conversation that I began to think of ways to remember, forever, what each person meant to me.

I continued to struggle from time to time with the pain of the grief over not having Prim with me. I was also hurting at the absence of my mother. At Peeta's insistence, I finally broke down and decided to call her.

It has been over two months since I have returned from the Capitol. It is nearing three months since I last spoke to my mother. I pick up the phone and dial in the number that was on the bottom of her letter.

The phone rings four, five and six times. I am about to hang up, when I hear her voice on the other end. I can't form words at first, but instead get choked on the lump in my throat.

When she says hello a second time, all I can get out is _mom?_

"Katniss, is that you," she asks with the hint of tears forming in her voice?

"Yes, it's me. How are you doing," I manage.

"Well, I am staying busy with work, how about you? How are you doing honey," she says?

It is the small term of endearment that sends me over the edge and I begin to sob. "I really miss you here. I miss you so much," I say in between small fits of crying.

"Katniss I miss you so much too. I think about you every single day. I have worried about you for such a long time. I am so sorry that I haven't been there for you, or even called to check on you. I am ashamed," she says.

"Don't be. I could have called too. Let's just promise not to let so much time go between our next call," I say.

I spend the next few minutes telling my mother about how I have changed since coming back home. When I tell her about the primroses that Peeta planted, we both break down in tears again. It is that mention that opens up our conversation about all the wonderful things we wish she could experience.

What my mom says next though will have a profound effect on the rest of my life.

"Katniss, we both have something that no one else can ever have. We have all the memories of what made her so special locked in our heart. She will live through us. Every time we look on someone with compassion in our heart, she will live. Every time we put someone's needs before ours, she will live. _Don't ever forget that_," she finishes.

"I won't ever forget mom," I reply.

We say our goodbyes with promises that we will continue to talk and if the opportunity ever comes up, we will visit, either in 12 or in 4.

When I hang up the phone, I feel like part of the grief I was holding onto has been lifted. I don't feel as burdened about missing her. I know my mother was saying words of encouragement to lift my spirits, but I have taken it as a challenge to live outwardly the way Prim would have. I know I can never be what she was, but I will try to incorporate her radiance into my life somehow.

Later that evening during dinner, I mention to Peeta my desire to think of ways to remember everyone that we knew who isn't with us anymore.

We talk about Prim's smile, his father's passion for helping others; we even discuss those that we met as part of the games.

How Finick's eyes were an unrepeatable shade of green. We continue this back and forth, sometimes overcome with brief moments of emotion and then it hits me.

"I know how we can remember them. Forever. We should make a book of memories. We can write down all that we remember about each person that isn't here anymore," I say.

Peeta looks at me with a bit of confusion on his face. "Didn't we do something like this before," he asks?

I have to think about it, but then I remember he helped me with my father's plant book when I was injured before the second game. He remembers that.

"Yes, you helped me with my father's plant book," I say.

I get up and retrieve the book from the bookcase and bring it to the living room table. I flip toward the back and to a page that I know holds Peeta's artwork and he traces the lines with his fingers.

When he looks back to me, there is warmth in his eyes. "I really enjoyed spending that time with you, when we did this. It was one of the best times in my life," he says.

I realize that this is the first memory that seems untainted from a period when we were in love with each other.

"I think this new book is a great idea. It won't be easy, but I can't wait to get started with you," he says.

There is something in the way he said that. Something that tells me that this book is more than just a way to remember our lost loved ones, but also a way to remember a lost bond…or maybe just a misplaced one.

**A/N: **Long chapter. I could have probably broken this one up into a couple of chapters, but I really just wanted to get these two past the "uneasiness" and into some sort of relationship. Peeta is remembering what made him fall in love with her before the games. I like this unique angle because it fits with the theme of a second chance. Hopefully I didn't rush them into their friendship too quickly. I am impatient and believe they deserve as much happiness as they can get, as quickly as they can get it. Review away!


	5. The Book

**A/N: **Hopefully the last chapter did not rush things too much. I have read many great fan fics dealing with this vague part of the book where the author takes a great amount of time and detail before bringing our characters back together. I just couldn't wait. They have a long way to go, but I think it's important to get them to the point of "growing back together." This chapter will focus on the book, but there are a _few_ days of waiting for the materials to arrive. Enjoy.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**The Book**

Three days have passed since we came up with the idea for the book. When my scheduled time to speak with Dr. Aurelius came around, I told him about the idea I, or _we_ had come up with to help us remember those we have lost.

"That sounds like an excellent idea Katniss. I am especially glad you are going to work on it together. How are things going with the two of you," he asked?

The way he has been asking how Peeta and I are doing, insinuating that we are doing _together_, has not been lost on me. It's almost as if he has a hidden agenda behind our treatment.

This makes me a little skeptical of his treatment of me. I don't think Dr. Aurelius would intentionally try to steer me in the wrong direction, it just seems all too familiar, to have someone _manipulating_ your life in any way.

I am immediately withdrawn and apprehensive about talking with him. Being the educated doctor he is, he picks up on this and tries to assure me that he is very happy with my progress and continues to wish nothing but the best for me.

He then tells me that he will send supplies for the book of memories on the next train to our district. I thank him for helping me with that task and hang up the phone.

I head upstairs to take a shower and try to figure out what I will do with the day. It has been raining for the past two days and that has regulated me to a lot of sitting around and doing nothing.

After the shower, I stand before the full length mirror on the door and am a little repulsed at the image of the skin grafts. They are flaking in places and still aren't exactly comfortable.

I remember the jar of cream that I found a few days ago and apply more of it to the _new skin_ areas. I haven't remembered to use it every day like my mother instructed during one of our phone calls.

My skin would never resemble _perfection_, not that it ever did, but I would always have scars. That's alright; they would match the permanent scars on my heart.

Back downstairs, I found myself flipping through the old plant book that used to belong to my father. I found a page that caught my attention and made me tremble a little.

The title of the image was _nightlock_.

Instantly I am back in that first arena. I can see the texture and violet coloring of the berries I have gathered in my hand. I can almost taste their bitterness before I snap back to the present. How close we had come to being no more.

That train of thought, of course, sparked other memories from those games. Some happy, but most devastating. I tried to close my eyes and sort through the memories, searching only for the happy ones.

The memory of befriending Rue sticks out the most. I can see her face, but not like in the nightmares. No, I see her face smiling, her soft cheeks and bright eyes that contrast so beautifully against her dark skin. I remember how she looked when she leapt from tree top to tree top.

I open my eyes and force myself out of the daydreaming state before I can see what became her untimely demise.

Those little berries on this page seem so small and insignificant, but they were the catalyst for an entire revolution that left me scarred, both inside and out, yet alive in a world that was _different_.

The page also brings the memory of my father as he would take the time to explain what each plant in the book was used for. He would then take great care to point them out in the woods when we would come across one.

In that simple way, my father saved my life in the games. I am glad he never had to know that I was in those games, but was thankful that his time spent with me was part of the reason I was still alive.

I closed the book and walked to the window that looks toward the front of my house.

I had to rub my eyes to be sure I was seeing correctly, but there are geese in front of Haymitch's house. What's more, he is actually feeding the geese.

This strikes me as funny because, for one, he is not so drunk he can't sit up, and two, he appears to be taking care of the animals.

I walk out the front door and quickly, through the steady rain, make my way to his front porch.

"What do you want sweetheart," he asks in a tone that is more harsh than friendly?

"Where did these geese come from," I ask?

"I was bored and wanted something to do. No more liquor until that damn train runs again. I bought these off some old _geezer_ that lives out near the mines," he replied.

"Why," is all I could manage to say?

"I just told you, I was bored. Needed something to do. I can get rid of them and just hang out at your house all the time," he snickered.

I decided the geese were definitely a good idea. I just hope they can fend for themselves when the trains arrive with a fresh supply of _night-night_ drinks.

Before I can leave, Haymitch starts asking questions. I don't think I am going to like where we are headed, but decide to humor him.

"So, you and lover boy. How's that working out," he asks?

I hate the term lover boy. It reminds me of how Cato said it when they were searching for me in the first game. Insinuating that there was nothing more to Peeta than being in love with me.

"Peeta and I are fine," I replied shortly.

"You know he still has feelings for ya don't you," he said. "I know you aren't the sharpest pencil in the box, but it's pretty damn obvious," he continued.

"Haymitch, we're just friends. I am happy with that. I don't need anything else," I said.

Even though I just spoke those words, they don't feel right coming out of my mouth. My mind conjured up those words, but my heart doesn't agree.

"Whatever. You keep telling yourself that. Probably for the best. I told you a hundred times, you would never deserve that boy's love anyway," he said.

It's true. I don't deserve the happiness a life with Peeta could bring. I don't deserve any happiness after all the pain and suffering I caused everyone around me.

After dinner, that night, I tell Peeta that Dr. Aurelius is sending supplies for the book. He seems very eager to get started. I can't say that I share his enthusiasm.

I get up from the couch, where we have been sitting, and go into the kitchen to get desert. I picked fresh blackberries today and, with Sae's help, made a blackberry cobbler for desert.

In the process of slicing a piece of pie, I was distracted, or just plain clumsy, but I cut my hand. Without thinking, I turned toward Peeta just as the first drops of blood splattered on the floor at my feet.

I saw his facial expression change, almost instantly, as his eyes went from the knife to the blood and then to me. His eyes were wild and his I could see a noticeable change in his breathing.

He sprang from the couch to his feet and is in the kitchen so quick I don't really have time to move. Fear rushed through my veins as I was sure he was about to attack me.

Instead, he grabbed the back of the chair at the table, closed his eyes and just stood there. The color had drained from his hands because his grip was incredibly tight.

I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to move, but too concerned to look away.

I spoke to him in a gentle tone, "Peeta, are you alright. I am fine, just a little cut on my finger. Everything is fine, no one is going to hurt you," I said.

I wasn't sure what he heard, but his grip slowly released and when he looked at me his eyes were not nearly as dilated as they had been moments earlier.

"I am alright. Just takes me by surprise sometimes. I am so sorry…," he says.

I realize he is overcome with worry and frustration. The fact that I haven't moved an inch nor tried to stop the steady flow of blood from the cut has told him that I was terrified of what I just saw.

"Oh, don't apologize. I didn't know what to do to help you," I started.

"There is nothing anyone can do," he says defeated.

"Peeta, I want to help you. You have helped me so many times in the past," I say. I wonder if this is all lost on him, some memory that he can't or doesn't recall. I am talking about the times that his strong embrace at night helped me sleep without the fear of torturous nightmares.

"How did I help you," he replies. "Sometimes when we are sitting near each other I have the feeling that I used to…maybe…put my arm around you or something," he says, a bit shyly.

I know that the memory is not gone forever, just muddled. All the times we spent _cuddled_ into one another, is burned in his memory.

"Yes, Peeta, you used to hold me sometimes. Sometimes it was for no reason at all, and others, because I would settle into your embrace," I say.

I decide not to mention all the times those strong arms held me while we lay together in bed. I am still cautious of sharing too much and making him uncomfortable.

After applying a quick bandage, cleaning up the mess I made with the cut and retrieving our plates of cobbler, I walk back into the living room and find a place – a little _closer_ to Peeta.

We enjoy the desert in silence.

Peeta has his hand on the back of his head, rubbing the hair back there. I notice this out of the corner of my eye and pick up on the _nervousness_ that is playing across his face.

With a tentative movement he slides that hand from his head around my shoulders, purposely pretending to just be stretching his arm.

I decide to _help_ him out and lean into the crook of his arm, with my head on his chest.

I can feel his pulse rate increase and then the pressure of that arm as it encircles my shoulder, his fingers just brushing the inside of my arm.

I relax, hoping that feeling the tension, if there was any, leave my body will help him know that this is not only alright, but very much enjoyed.

I forgot the effect his touch can have on me when I wake up from an obvious short nap and see his blue eyes just staring at me, while his hand strokes my hair, ever so slightly.

"Thoughts," I ask, breaking the eerie silence.

"I am just glad that there is nothing anyone can do to mess up this memory right now," he says.

"I feel like I am living in a dream right now," he continues. "What I remember when I was younger, is always wanting to find a way to talk to you, always dreaming about being your friend, and always hoping for the impossible – to be able to hold you for a minute," he says.

My heart is like a pool of mush. For the first time since…maybe since the night on the beach in the second game, I feel like I am talking to the Peeta that captured my heart.

"I am glad I can be a part of that memory, and I am glad that your dream came true," I said. It was corny and I felt a little embarrassed to say it, as if I thought I was the answer to anyone's dream.

When my third yawn escaped from my throat, Peeta took it as a sign to excuse himself for the night. I wish he wasn't leaving. I know what waits for me upstairs.

He tells me that he is working on the final touches to the bakery this week in preparation for a grand opening next week.

"May 8th is going to be a special day for me. The first day of owning my own business and carrying on the Mellark tradition," he says proudly.

I am smiling at his elation when it hits me that May 8th is a special day in my life too. My birthday is May 8th – I will be 18 years-old.

Birthdays have never really been a big deal in my life. I am sure they were special when I was a young girl, but I just remember them for the first time I was able to sign up for Tessare. Each birthday after that meant one more year closer to being free of the reaping.

Most children from the districts celebrated their 18th birthday, especially if it fell after that year's reaping, because it meant you had survived the government's _lottery with your life_.

I kept this secret to myself and told Peeta good night.

That night the nightmares came again, same hole, same faces, but tonight someone new was standing with Prim. Peeta was in my dream tonight. Prim was holding his hand as if she had led him to this place. All of a sudden, I wasn't scared anymore. He helped me out of the hole and as the others retreated into the darkness, I caught a glimpse of Prim as she headed in the other direction – toward the meadow. She was smiling.

I woke up in the middle of the night with fresh tears. This is the first time that a dream included my sister smiling.

I looked out of my window and noticed that Peeta's lights were still on. I could make out the silhouette as he walked past one of the upstairs windows.

I wondered why he would still be awake. Then I remember that he once told me he would stay awake at night on the train and listen for me.

He couldn't sleep because his nightmare was always about losing me.

_That can't be why he is up now. He doesn't remember that, does he?_ I think to myself.

I try to convince myself to lie back down and try to go back to sleep, but I can't get him out of my head.

I get back up, throw on a pair of pajama pants and walk downstairs. I go out the back door and across the yard to Peeta's house.

I almost talk myself out of being there, when I hear him coming down the stairs. Before I can knock, the door opens and a very concerned Peeta looks back at me.

"Is something wrong, are you alright Katniss," he asks?

"I am fine, just couldn't sleep. I noticed your light was still on and I was worried about you," I said.

"Oh, I was just…um…walking around…" he says and trails off as if he isn't really sure why he is up.

"Peeta, it's alright to tell me. Do you have trouble sleeping," I ask?

"Yes. It seems to be getting worse over the last couple of weeks," he answers.

_The last couple of weeks_ I think. I feel guilty. We have been spending a lot of time together the last couple of weeks. Could I be the reason that sleep has left him?

I go inside his house and follow him to the kitchen. He sits down and I put on a pot of water for tea. As if I have done this forever, I fix his tea, without any sugar, from memory and he acts a little surprised.

"Do you want to talk about it," I ask?

"It's no big deal…," he says, but I sense that he is holding back.

My expression must convince him that I am not going to let him slide that easily.

"Alright, ever since we have been having dinner together and hanging out more, I have this worry that keeps me up sometimes," he says.

"What do you worry about," I ask?

"I worry about you. Whether you are going to be there when I wake up. I am sorry if I am making you uncomfortable, but…well, I care about you and I don't want to do anything to hurt our friendship, or…" he says, and then stops.

I get up from my chair and kneel in front of him, taking his hands in mine, I look straight into his eyes.

"Peeta, I am not going anywhere. I will _always_ be here for you," I say.

I decide to be a little bolder and keep talking.

"Peeta, I know this sounds crazy, but when you _held_ me tonight on my couch, I fell asleep and didn't have one nightmare. I usually can't sleep at all without being scared to death by some dream," I admit.

"Really," is all he can say?

"Yes. I know you may not remember it, but we used to _help_ each other sometimes at night. You would hold me while I slept and I would wake up without having had any nightmares," I said.

"I thought I had just dreamed that. When you settled into me tonight, it felt like we _fit_, like we had done that all the time, and I wished that I could just let myself go to sleep with you," he said.

Without saying another word, I stood up, not letting go of his hand, and led him to the living room couch. He sat down and held his arm up for me to crawl up beside him and curl into his chest. He was right, we did fit.

He brought a light blanket down from the back of the couch and covered me up.

He started to say something, but I held a finger up to his lips, "just sleep Peeta, it's alright."

Just before I dosed off, I felt Peeta relax all his muscles and squeeze me a little tighter.

When I woke up hours later, I was met by the realization that I had not had one nightmare in that time period. I could hear the rhythmic breathing under my cheeks and dare not move, but simple closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment of being _alive._

The next night, I got up from the couch in my living room where we had been sitting and talking and quietly turned off the lights, and locked the front door. I didn't have to say anything, Peeta instinctively got up from the couch and followed me up the stairs to my bedroom.

Nervousness filled me from head to toe. This isn't any different than sleeping together on the couch, but there is something more _intimate_ about being in my bed.

My mind ran to all the times we had done this before, and especially the time we had done_ it_ before. I wonder if Peeta has any recollection of that. If he did, does this make him nervous too?

"Katniss, are you sure this is alright with you," he asked? "Me sharing your bed?"

"Of course it's alright. We are friends and we seemed to help each other last night, didn't we," I replied?

A smile spread across his lips, "It was the best sleep I have had in as long as I can remember."

This feels amazing. The warmth of his body pressed so close to mine. His embrace holding me and daring any nightmare to come my way. The small kisses he is subconsciously placing on my forehead. I allow myself to completely soak in this moment.

I quickly remember the gentlemen Peeta is. There is no threat of anything_ more_ right now. I don't know if he remembers or not, but I pretend he doesn't. It's easier to relax not worrying about him trying anything else, although part of me isn't exactly against it.

We wake up the next morning to the sound of the train pulling into the station. It's not loud or obtrusive, but enough to rouse me out of the dreamless slumber I was enjoying. I remember that I am actually excited about this train because it will bring us the supplies we need to start the book.

I offer to wait to begin working on the book until after Peeta opens the bakery. I know he has a lot on his mind, but he assures me he has been looking forward to this.

When we clean up after dinner, bid Sae farewell, we open the box from the Capitol and pull out a large stack of parchment, pencils, and a leather bound book that will hold all the pages.

"Who should we start with," I ask? I know who I would pick. Who I think should be at the front of this book, or is always at the front of my every thought – Prim.

"That's easy," he says. "We should start with her," and he is holding a picture of Prim. I didn't even know he had this picture. It is an old photograph from her last year in school before it all happened.

A tear spills down my cheek as I hold the photo and my heart begins to break all over again. The way her hair flows around her soft cheeks, the eyes that are as blue as Peeta's with a spark of life radiating out. I begin to sob ever so slightly.

"Where did this come from," I ask?

"She gave it to me. The night you were late coming home, when the Peace Keepers were here looking for you. While we were waiting, she grabbed my hand and said I should have this. She said she wanted me to remember how happy she was that I helped bring you home," he explained.

"I found it yesterday afternoon in my house, and it was like a light bulb went on in my head and I remember every second of that day," he continued.

"I really liked her Katniss. She was so nice to me and you just couldn't help but fall in love with her after you met her," he said.

That was all it took. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest and just let the tears fall. He held me so tight for what seemed like hours. I could feel the tears from his eyes as they mingled with mine.

_We may never get through this little project_ I think to myself.

After a few minutes in the bathroom, washing my face and steadying my nerves, I am ready to give this another shot.

When I come back into the kitchen, Peeta has outlined a sketch of Prim on the first page of the book. I silently watch as his hands bring her to life, and after 30 minutes or so, I am staring at a beaming replica of my sweet sister.

I begin the task of listing all of the happy things I can think of that describe Prim. I write small stories about things that happened when we were growing up, like Lady, Prim's goat, licking her face. Peeta adds memories of watching her look through the bakery windows at the frosted treats.

After nearly three, front and back, pages I add the last line of her entry:

_I will never forget you my sweet Primrose. I promise I will live each day with you in my heart and I promise your kindness will be showered on all those I meet._

We seal this page with that promise and more saltwater and gently close the book.

I look around and realize that it is dark. We have spent hours honoring her memory with the book. Without either of us saying it, we both seem to agree that we can't work on any other entries tonight. Part of it is because we are exhausted, but another part of it is because this night is sacred and about Prim.

We climb the stairs toward my bedroom, and I slip into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. When I come out, Peeta goes in right after me, picking up his toothbrush that somehow found its way over from his house.

I smile at the thought of a small piece of Peeta being in my house.

Tonight doesn't have that awkward feeling, but instead feels normal. I let out a small sigh as I find _my spot_ on his chest and he responds with a small nuzzle of his chin to the top of my head.

_I am walking in the meadow. It's dark and gloomy. The hole in the earth is open and cavernous as usual. There is no one in the abyss that is open before me. I hesitate before walking closer. Then I hear the shrieking of small children. I recognize some of their faces from distant memories of games before. I turn my eyes away and he is standing before me with an evil grin on his face. Cato reaches out and grabs hold of me and I struggle to get away. With one swift movement of his arms, I am flung into the blackness of this grave. There is no end though, I don't hit the bottom, but continue to fall, father and father into the unknown._

I wake up with a start, screaming out and looking, wildly around the room. His arms are around me and he is whispering that it's alright, that I'm safe. I guess there is no guarantee that the nightmares won't come, but somehow the aftermath is not as bad when he is there to hold me.

We lay back down and he strokes my face and continues to tell me that he is there and that I am safe. He brushes the tear from my eye and softly kisses my cheeks. His lips are impossibly delicate and gentle. It is almost like a feather brushing the very edge of my skin.

I am startled by what happens next. Without thinking, or asking, Peeta's lips brush mine in that same delicate motion. I remain perfectly still, eyes shut tight. When I open my eyes, he has closed his and is beginning to settle into a rhythmic sleep again.

My heart is raging with emotion, but my body is calm and collected. I have missed _my _Peeta.

And so our days go like this for the rest of the week. We wake up, eat breakfast, I hunt or just wander through the woods, Peeta works at the bakery. We meet up later in the day, maybe have a snack or tea, I go home, help Sae with dinner, Peeta shows up and we eat. Some days, Haymitch joins us for dinner, but he has been reserved with his _teasing_ comments.

We have filled up nearly 100 pages of the book. Some pages are easy, because we knew someone but didn't have a strong emotional attachment to them. Others are very hard like the day we did my father's entry or the day we did entries for each of Peeta's brothers.

Haymitch told us that the book was a waste of good parchment and I outta be ashamed that my pointless idea had killed a few small trees. I laugh a little because I know he is intrigued by the book. He always picks it up after dinner, when he joins us, and reads silently to himself.

The book has also served another purpose. Peeta and I are working together, just like we did during the time he helped me with the plant book. Our focus is common and pointed in the same direction. Conversation has come back to us with ease.

We still have question and answer time and that can be tricky sometimes. For whatever reason, Peeta has never broached the subject of our physical contact, either now or before.

I have dreaded answering the questions of whether we have been intimate before. I don't want to scare him or make him feel bad for forgetting one of the best things that ever happened between us. Secretly I am hoping that is part of our _second chance_ somewhere down the road.

During a phone conversation with my mother, she asks me how things are going with Peeta.

"Katniss, don't try and pretend you don't have feelings for him," she said when I tried to brush the question off with "_it's ok."_

"I was a young woman once too, and I know what it's like to have your heart taken by a boy," she teased.

"Mom, I don't think I ever told you this, but on the train to the second game…Peeta and I…," I started.

"You did what," she pressed?

"We had a toasting. I didn't think we would make it out of there alive, at least I wouldn't. I thought I could give him a piece of happiness in the short time we had left," I said.

"Oh honey, I never thought about that being a possibility. I honestly didn't pay enough attention to how your life was changing in that department. Everything happened so quickly then. It is no wonder that you might be confused right now then," she said.

She was right. I was a little confused. I guess the fact that I had written off what happened before Peeta was taken from me had left me in a state of mind that I was single, but by our tradition here in the district, I had been married or still was.

It wasn't as if the marriage was _legal_ by Capitol standards, but I had pledged my heart, forever, to Peeta. These thoughts are surfacing more and more now because we have grown back together so much in the last few weeks.

"Well Katniss, the way I see it, you are blessed. You have the opportunity to fall in love all over again, if that's what you want. There are a lot of people that wish they had done things differently, and never get that chance. I wouldn't worry too much about what was in the past, and just focus on what can be today and in the future," she said.

I thanked her for being there for me, and promised I wouldn't keep her out of the loop in that department. We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

That evening was the night we wrote about Peeta's brothers.

I realize I haven't heard Peeta talk too much about his family. I knew his father before I knew him. My father would always trade squirrels with Mr. Mellark and sometimes I would go with him. When my father was killed and I began to provide for our family, I remembered the _squirrel man_ and returned there to continue trading.

I had seen Peeta's oldest brother before, talking to Gale or the group that he was standing around with. I think they were in the same year in school.

Peeta also had another brother that was just a year and a half older than him.

"What were they like," I asked while he sketched their faces on the blank page?

"They were mean," he started. "But not in a way that made you afraid of them. It was more like their way of showing that they cared. They picked on me and each other a lot," he said.

I could tell by the pained expression in his eyes that the memories he had of them were not easy ones to think about.

After Peeta had sketched the pictures just the way he wanted them, I handed him the pencil to begin recording his memories. I stood from my chair and circled behind Peeta, placing my hands on his shoulders and softly humming a tune I used to know when I was younger.

He wrote and wrote, easily filling one then another page. Several times in the process, I could feel his shoulders shake ever so slightly and knew that the tears were falling down his face.

This broke my heart too. I was consumed with a grief for people I didn't even know, but he knew and loved. I was also having moments of extreme sadness at the thought that my rebellious actions were what caused them to be just memories in this book and not still a part of his life.

I think I will feel some sort of guilt over every death that has happened since the first games.

When we finally reached the end of the page, Peeta put the pencil down and turned and buried his head in my stomach. He sobbed, openly and loud, and I broke down with him. I couldn't do anything but hold him and whisper that it would all be ok, though I know that will never be completely true.

Eventually he stopped crying, and began wiping at the tears remaining on his cheeks. He apologizes for acting like a _baby_ and I laugh at his feeble attempt to regain his macho-male demeanor.

Peeta has never been that macho guy, stuck on competition and power. No, he is the soft and gentle dandelion in the spring that is beautiful and majestic, yet fragile and delicate.

We close the book and decide to take a walk. We head down the lane of the village and after only three steps, my hand finds his and we walk, hand-in-hand, toward the town square.

Peeta fills me in on the happenings in town, and as we are walking around the square, he points out different buildings and what will be in them. We are getting a new Justice Hall, but it will be called a _Town Hall_.

We will also hold elections in the fall, sometime, to elect a mayor and representatives. Apparently sometime hundreds of years ago, our nation used to operate under the power of an elected body of people.

For the first time in many years, the people of the districts would have a voice and a say in how the nation was run.

He also said there was mention of the mines being torn down, at least the entrances, and the site prepared for the building of some kind of factory. Apparently there were safer ways to harvest the coal we depended on for energy than burrowing several miles into the earth.

I am sure my father would have been pleased with that.

We continue walking past the town and toward the seam. I haven't been back here since that day that I saw all the bodies being buried in the mass grave.

I am scared of having some kind of melt down, but Peeta reassures me and we press on. When we reach the site of my old house, I nearly lose it.

I can see Prim standing in the doorway, her smile is as radiant as ever. It was the same look I remember her having when she saw me carrying some sort of food that I had either killed or traded for. I miss her so much.

Peeta says, "You technically still own this don't you?"

"I guess I do," I answer, not really sure where he is going with this.

"We should build someone a house here. Prim would have opened her door to anyone in need. There is no point in leaving it like it is. We should build a few houses right here and maybe we could even get the new mayor to rename this road, Prim Lane, or something like that," he suggested.

I realize he is trying to lift my spirits, but it doesn't sound like a bad idea. It would be great to see new homes in the seam, maybe a way of connecting the town and the seam.

We continue walking past the house and toward the meadow. I am shocked to see that it is flat again. There is a large area without any grass, but tiny seedlings have begun to sprout and I know that nature will cover this memory.

"There should be some kind of marker here," I say.

"I remember seeing places in the Capitol, before I returned that had tables and swing sets. I think Dr. Aurelius called it a park. Maybe we could have a park, in their honor, here," he suggested.

"That would be nice," I reply.

The sun is quickly setting behind the hills, so we turn and begin to walk back home.

The walk was refreshing and sharing it with Peeta made it that much better. I let myself pretend that we never changed as we stroll back through the town and toward the village.

The book has been a blessing to both of us. I know that today and forever more, our memories will be preserved. Future generations will know of the people that sacrificed to give them a future of freedom and choice.

The thought of future generations startles me a little. I remember the solemn promise I made to myself that there would be no future generation _from me_. I couldn't imagine bringing children into this world when there was a chance of imminent death.

I know the games are gone, but I still can't wrap my mind around having a family. I am scared to death of something happening to Peeta, and the experience of what we went through and are still dealing with have me very reserved about anything permanent with him.

Yet, I can't imagine my life without him. I silently hope that we can just live in the moment like we are right now. Somehow, looking at him and knowing his personality and ability to be optimistic about all things in life, I know I am in for difficult discussions one day.

My mind will never cease to amaze me how it is so jumbled with so many thoughts, some good, some bad and some indifferent. Moments ago I was relishing the thought of building something and providing for someone in need, and now I am mortified at the thought of something that may never be an issue.

I will my mind to settle down before my body gives away my apprehension. I play the game where I think of the things that I am thankful for and name them one by one in my head. That list ends, tonight, with being thankful for the man walking beside me.

When we reach the lane that runs down the middle of the Victor's Village, Peeta suddenly stops and turns to face me. I was a second too late and end up running right into his chest.

"What's wrong," I ask?

He just stares at me. I am almost worried that he is having another flashback, when his hands find the sides of my face and his lips come crashing down on mine. When he doesn't break the kiss immediately, I respond and kiss him back. My hands lock behind his head and I am pulling him closer to me.

The heat that rises up inside of me is faintly familiar. I felt this way on the beach when we shared our personal moment during the last game.

When we finally break for air, I search his eyes. Is this from memory or is this just something that he wanted right now? So many questions swirl through my head.

"Katniss, I have wanted to kiss you for the past two weeks. I am completely attracted to you and I think you feel the same way towards me. I don't think I can settle for a normal friendship. You are my best friend, but what I feel for you goes so much deeper," he says.

It is then that I realize that this has nothing to do with what happened between us in the past. This is the present. Peeta has seized his _second chance_, unbeknownst to him and the result has been the same. He loves me. Well, he likes me a lot. I know that I love him. I know in this moment that I could never write _us _off and pretend that we weren't destined for one another.

Standing in _our_ lane, just like we did so many months ago, when I first professed my love for him, we were giving our hearts to each other for the first time – all over again.

My birthday is coming in two days, but I think I just got the best birthday present any 18 year-old girl could ask for.

I don't know that anyone else in this world could have found a way into my heart when I was so determined to guard it before. I know that opening up leaves me even more vulnerable, but I trust Peeta and I have faith – small and hidden, but faith nonetheless, that I can weather any valley or storm with him by my side.

When we walk through the living room on our way upstairs to _our_ room, I let my fingers brush the cover of the new book of memories and silently add it to my list of what I am thankful for; the opportunity to grow back together with Peeta.

**A/N: Another long chapter. I crammed a lot in here, but felt like I needed to cover most of the "growing back together". The book of memories has always stuck out in my mind as something that may have been the "push" they needed to find each other again. They seemed to grow so much closer when they worked on the plant book, so I ran with that angle. The next chapter will cover the "real not real" and then subsequent chapters will focus on building and living the life that takes us through the years to the epilogue. Comments / suggestions / gripes and general reviews are awesome!**


	6. Real or Not Real

**A/N: **This chapter gets to the _Real Not Real_. Maybe my favorite line in the entire series. That moment when there is nothing in the way, no confusion, just – real. Enjoy.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**Real or Not Real**

Last night was epic. There is really no other way to describe it. The walk was so refreshing after such a long few days working on _our book_.

I roll over to my side and face a sleeping Peeta. His features are so calm in this serene moment. I notice, for the first time, the scars that flicker across his forehead.

I have seen Peeta's scars before this moment, but I am looking at them and understanding the depth of what put them there. The life, the war and the never-ending mission to see me survive are all etched across his smooth skin.

I reflect back to a tense moment we had during our march on the Capitol when Peeta and I talked about the _us_ before the hijacking. The one thing that stood out was our undeniable desire to protect one another.

That desire superseded any other motives we had for life. I find it funny that my life, up to that point, could really be summed up in those words – protecting the ones I love.

I continue my examination of Peeta and smile at the way his blonde curls fall around his eyes. His lips seem to have a softness that is not possible.

I know behind those closed eye-lids are the bluest of blues anyone has ever seen. I have never seen eyes that take my breath the way his can.

I am tempted to reach out and trace his lips with my finger, but decide to just enjoy the moment of _watching_.

I must have dosed off during my _stalking_ moment, because when I open my eyes I am staring into the endless blue orbs I was just imagining. His smile tells me that I just caught him doing what I was earlier.

"Good morning," he says.

It is a good morning. Not the first nightmare plagued my slumber last night. I feel completely refreshed as if I have been sleeping for months.

I can't form the words to describe how nice this morning is, so I let my lips do the talking. Without saying a word, I inch closer and press my lips upon his.

"What was that for," he says as we return to our previous positions?

"Because I can," I reply, playfully.

"I woke up this morning and had to rub my eyes a little to be sure I was seeing you – _really_ seeing you here," he says.

I am a little confused. Where did he think I would be? But he continues to explain.

"After last night, I was nervous to fall asleep. I kept waiting for some awful distorted memory or image to flash before my eyes to prove to me that our time spent walking through the district wasn't real," he finishes.

I am a little sad at the thought of how horrible it must be to not be able to fully enjoy the moments that take your breath away. He is so scared of the one thing that used to haunt him after our first game – losing me.

I hate those in the Capitol that tortured him like this. I think I would hate them for torturing anyone like this, but because it's my Peeta, I hate them that much more.

"Do you have a lot to do today," I ask – silently hoping the answer is no, but understanding that he has a big day coming up with the grand re-opening.

"I do have quite a bit to get done. Mostly baking and decorating. All the equipment is in place and I have moved most of the decorations – my paintings and such down to the bakery. So, now I need to put in quite a bit of oven time," he says.

"Well then, you should get started. I will fix breakfast while you get a shower," I say as I get out of the bed. "How about I bring the breakfast over to your house?"

"That sounds good to me," he says and then he leans into me for another quick kiss. This one makes me giggle a little.

As Peeta leaves through the front door, I find myself wishing he never had to leave. He has spent the last few nights sharing my bed and it just feels natural.

I realize that we shared a private toasting almost a year ago, but we never got to experience what it was like to live as husband and wife. I find myself wondering what that would be like.

I start to feel a little anxiety at that thought – living with Peeta. While it was an easy decision to _marry_ him before the start of the last game, mostly because I was sure I was about to die, the thought of really opening up and being with him for the foreseeable future is scary.

I know that I love Peeta, but something in my mind is still fighting the complete _giving in_ to my heart. By maintaining our separate spaces, I feel like I still have some control. Over what, I have no idea.

I will my mind to settle down, realizing again that I am being scattered and worrying about things that may never be an issue. Somehow I know that I keep coming to the difficult things because I want them to be an issue.

I finish collecting the breakfast selections and make a quick trip to the restroom to make myself a little more presentable.

When I get to Peeta's front door, I knock as a courtesy and then let myself in. I can hear Peeta in his study, talking. When he says, "Thank you so much, I will be sure to make it very special. Talk to you soon," I am a little curious and worried that he is having a conversation with himself.

I hear the receiver land on the phone base and realize that he was having a phone conversation and I am relieved that he hasn't slipped into some sort of multiple personality disorder.

"Who were you talking to," I inquire?

"Oh, um…I have had a few requests for cakes from some of the folks in town, that was just a guy I met who wants to surprise his son with a birthday cake," he replied.

For some reason, I am suspicious but let it go, instead opting for getting place settings out for breakfast.

After breakfast, Peeta leaves for the bakery and I return to my house. I still haven't figured out what to do today, but hunting just doesn't seem to be in the plans.

I decide that I should pay a visit to Haymitch. Since the train ran the other day, I am sure he has built up enough alcohol in his blood stream that he probably running on a 50/50 mixture.

After knocking on his door for a good five minutes, he finally stumbles across the room and throws open the door with a wild – almost pissed look on his face.

I enter, sliding past him as he mumbles something about respecting your elders.

The state of his house – foul smelling and completely unkempt causes me to make a mental note to see if there is anyone in town looking for housework. Haymitch could definitely use another Hazel to get his place back in shape again.

Just the thought of Hazel takes my mind back down memory lane. She was like a second mother to me for a few years, especially when my own mother had checked out of reality.

Even before I met Gale, officially, she would stop by from time to time to be sure we had something to eat.

I missed her. I haven't seen her since I left district 13. I wonder how she and the rest of the Hawthorne crew were making out in the post-war world. I would be sure to ask my mother the next time we talked if she had heard from her.

Haymitch rummaging around for another bottle white liquor reminded me that I was here to check on him and see if I could bother him for a while, mostly because I was a little bored.

The honking of his new flock of geese caused him to spit out a flurry of profanity in between drinks.

"That's all they do, run around the yard and try to piss me off with all that racket. They would make a good stew," he says.

I can't help but laugh at him. When the liquor has run out, he is consumed with tending to them. I have even seen him out late at night making sure they are all accounted for.

"So where's your lover boy at," he asks?

I glare at him, the way I always do, when he uses that term to describe Peeta. He has picked up on this and corrects himself, "Alright, where is Peeeetaaaa," he mocks?

"At the bakery. He is having a re-opening celebration tomorrow and he needed to bake," I say.

"So when are you two going to quit pretending like you just met for the first time? Move in together, get married, have kids. This little sneaking around and giggling all the time makes me sick," he says.

"Things are going really well for us right now," I counter. I don't want to get into a yelling match trying to correct all his puns aimed at getting me riled up.

"Well you better not dilly-dally around for too long, he may just find someone else…probably someone nicer, seeing how he's gonna be working in town all the time," he says and smiles as he takes another drink.

I find it funny how you can ignore most anything, but someone says just one right word or two and your mind takes off in a flurry of thoughts and fears.

I have never given it a second thought. Sure I considered that we may just achieve friends or acquaintances, but I never thought about the other side of that – where Peeta has a life, romantically, with someone else.

The worry must be etched across my face, because Haymitch pipes in again. "Ah hell, I'm just messing with you. He's more likely to try and marry one of my damn geese than some other girl. He's only got eyes for you. Don't see why though. I still don't think you deserve him," he says.

"Whatever Haymitch. I just came by to see how you were doing. You are alive and I'm glad," I say as I stand up to leave.

"Hey, before you go…I've been thinking a little about that stupid book you two have been working on. Well, maybe it ain't so stupid. I have a whole head full of memories about kids just like you two that weren't so lucky," he says.

I look at him with an expression asking him to continue, but I think I know where he is heading with this.

"Maybe I could add a little more to the book," he says.

"I think that would be nice. We started it as a way to remember those that have touched us, but I think it could be a way to remember more than just that," I said. "You can help us work on it anytime."

"You should come by for dinner tonight. I am fixing a squirrel stew," I add before heading for the door.

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a wave of his hand.

It's funny that I am offering to cook anything, but in the last few weeks, I have picked up on the general process to make the squirrel stew. I wanted to learn how to cook something and Peeta's favorite dish seemed appropriate.

Once outside, I decide that I am going to head to the woods, but not to hunt. I haven't really thought about this place in such a long time, but with the sun shining and a slight spring breeze blowing through my hair, I just feel like it's time to revisit it – my father's lake.

It's not really his lake, but in all the times we went there, I never saw another person. It was as if he had discovered a solitary place that no one else knew existed.

I have only been back here a handful of times since he passed. It was so hard to revisit for the first couple of years, but once I determined that I could, and would, feed my mother and Prim hunting, I had revisited it a couple of times to take advantage of the water fowl.

After walking through the woods for the better part of an hour, I remembered another reason I didn't go to the lake that often – it's a really long walk.

Another hour and a few more miles later, I can see the water glistening in the afternoon sunlight. Just like before, there isn't another soul to be seen. I walk around the water's edge for a little while until I find a small outcropping of rocks that sits 15 feet above the water.

I climb the rocks and take a seat with my legs dangling over the edge. The lake stretches out for several hundred yards around me. The wind has died down to almost nothing and I close my eyes basking in the heat that is surrounding me.

I am at peace with my life. I know that so many horrible things have happened, but I am at peace with it all, at least for the moment.

I silently wish that I could be at peace from here on out, but I know that no matter how _good_ my life may seem, I won't ever be able to completely let go of the pain and hurt.

Maybe that isn't such a bad thing though. Maybe holding onto the painful memories will be what helps us really appreciate and enjoy the new chances we have at life.

After watching a family of ducks parade around the lake for the better part of two hours, I decide it's time to return. I am already starting to get hungry and the two-hour hike back isn't going to help.

When I finally reach the fence and the meadow it's getting close to 5 o'clock. I decide to go through town and stop by the bakery on my way. Peeta usually tries to leave around five.

When I round the corner and get closer to the bakery, I am a little shocked to see Peeta standing in front of the door talking with a girl.

I can't tell much about her from where I am standing, but she appears to be about our age, with long blonde hair. Their proximity and her constant fits of giggling are a little unnerving.

I am about to turn and walk toward the village, when I hear Haymitch's words from this morning echoing in my head about Peeta finding someone else.

A wave of anger courses through my veins. Its jealousy – Katniss Everdeen is jealous of someone talking to Peeta. Tell me that two years ago and I would have laughed in your face.

I decide that turning and walking away is out of the question and instead, find myself walking toward the two _happily conversing_ individuals.

When I am within eyesight of them, she turns and my heart is flooded with happiness and a feeling of shame at what I was thinking just moments earlier. I am staring at Delly Cartright.

"Delly Cartright, is that you," I say, almost with a squeak to my voice?

"Katniss, oh my - it is soooo good to see you," she replies.

Without missing a beat, she has her arms around my neck in a strong embrace. We never really knew each other before all the mess and war started, but during my time in district 13, I got to know her a little more and she was very helpful with Peeta when he first got to 13.

"Delly is planning to move back to the district soon, she will be working in the new town hall," Peeta said as he locked the door to the bakery.

"That's fantastic, it will be nice to see another familiar face," I said.

Peeta tells me that he has invited Delly for dinner tonight, and I couldn't be happier. We all walk toward the village, and she goes on and on about all that has happened since the war ended.

She is looking at me with a glow in her eyes and her gaze keeps going from my face to my hands when I realize that I have found Peeta's hand and we are walking hand-in-hand home. After what she saw in 13, this must be something else. I just smile.

Haymitch stays true to his word and joins us for dinner and for the first time in a long time, the table is full and the conversation is plenty.

After dinner, we convince Delly to stay at _our _house. I get that little butterfly feeling in my stomach again, as I realize that's the first time I have called it _our_ house.

Before going to sleep, Peeta rolls over and kisses me with such tenderness, yet conviction that I am taken back. I return the kiss and feel his hands around my waist and the small of my back.

In the nights we have spent together, we have been very well_ behaved_. But something is different tonight and my body responds as if it has been waiting for an increased level of intimacy for a while now.

I run my fingers through Peeta's hair as we continue the kissing and feel the heat rising through my shoulders and neck. Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, my mouth parts ever so slightly, but it's like an open invitation.

I feel the tip of Peeta's tongue probing my lips and, as if they had a mind of their own, they part and allow his entry.

I have never experienced this type of passion. We have kissed so many times before, but not with this conviction.

After another 4 or 5 minutes of this, Peeta breaks the kiss and then places two or three more chaste kisses on my lips and cheeks and nose. Before nuzzling into my neckline and whispering in my ear.

_You make me so happy. Sometimes when we kiss, it feels like we have done this forever, and other times it is like the very first time. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life._

I breathe a small sigh when I feel his warm breath on my ear as he whispers to me. I know I am blushing and just wrap my arms around his chest and tell him that I am very happy.

Somehow that doesn't do it justice, but his smile tells me that what I said was nothing short of perfect.

When the morning light spills through the window, I roll over and find an empty spot in the bed.

My mind goes into a small panic mode at the absence of his warmth, but I don't let it show. I can hear noise from the kitchen and assume he is getting an early start on his big day.

After a few minutes, I also realize that today is a big day for me too. Today, I am 18 years-old. It's a special day because it's a birthday I never thought I would see. I was reaped at the age of 16 and being from district 12 that usually meant your 18th birthday would be celebrated post-humously.

But because so many cared about me and the cause that I inadvertently started, I am here. I don't know what I expect this day to hold, but I decide I want it to be low-key if not even recognized at all.

Today is Peeta's big day and I don't want to do anything to distract from that.

I remember that we have a house guest and force myself to get out of bed and into the bathroom for a little freshening up.

I make my way downstairs and find Delly sitting at the counter talking with Peeta. They are laughing and reminiscing about memories from their childhood.

I am glad Peeta has someone here that he can relate to with that part of his life. It seems like he has no happy child-hood memories at all sometimes, but hearing him talk with Delly makes me smile.

When my presence is detected I get a simultaneous _good morning_ from the two of them, but Peeta doesn't miss a beat with a well-timed kiss to my forehead.

"So Delly, what will you be doing in the district when you return," I ask?

"Oh, it's exciting, I am going to be the town clerk – handling the various paperwork and records like business licenses, marriage certificates, birth certificates, and all sorts of other paperwork," she says with an enthusiasm I can't quite grasp this early in the morning.

We talk about the new plans for the local governments of each district including new mayors, town or city councils – depending on how big your district is and other services such as law enforcement and utilities.

Before the war, the Capitol regulated everything under a strict dictatorship. Each town had mayors, but the Peace Keepers were really the long arm of the Capitol and operated under direct orders from the President.

"This is the beginning, at least on the local level," she continued. The future plans extend to the whole nation with a constitution that will give each citizen certain rights and set up different groups of government. It's really going to be something. There is even talk that we will eventually elect a new president every few years," she says.

A small chilling thought runs through my body and even though I realize we are living in a great period of time now, the thought of power changing hands and someday being able to fall back into evil hands, scares me to the very core of my soul.

I silently hope that we can continue to operate under our current president who seems to have a great disinterest in doing anything they way _it used to be_.

After breakfast, I wish Peeta good luck and promise to come by the bakery today for a visit. Delly insists that she must go in to town and work with the builders, attend a meeting with the planning team and return to District 13.

When the house is quiet again, I slip upstairs and undress while running a hot bath. I need a good soak today, something to calm my nerves. All of a sudden I feel like life is rushing by like the speeding capitol trains. I am 18, the country is changing before my very eyes, and there is an unsettling feeling that Peeta and I are changing at a rapid pace.

It is hard for me to believe that we could barely speak a few words to one another just a few months back. It is even harder to believe that just a short time before that, I was glued to a chair in the kitchen with weeks old clothes and no will to breathe.

I end up playing the _thankful_ game to calm my nerves and let the aroma of the bath salts fill my senses. I am smiling thinking of the progress Peeta has made and how excited I am for his big day today. I hope it has gone really well.

After my bath and much needed lotions and creams, I am standing in front of the closet. It doesn't take long to select a sun dress that is a soft shade of orange with white flowers. I fix my hair into my _signature_ braid, brush my teeth and make my way downstairs.

Outside, the birds are signing and children are playing. It is the first time I realized that more people have moved into some of the vacant houses in the Victor's Village. I smile thinking that more people are getting the opportunity to live in _luxury_ – at least for our district.

When I turn my attention to the sounds of a small squeal, I am frozen in my tracks as a little girl appears with long blonde hair flowing down her back. When she turns I am looking into a pair of doe-blue eyes and my heart melts. The tears are pooling in my eyes as I am staring at a girl that could be my sister when she was just seven or eight years old.

Oh, how Prim would have loved to have lived in the town when it was able to reciprocate her radiant attitude and hopeful demeanor.

I quicken my pace toward the town and when I near the square, I am absolutely delighted to see the crowd of people who have gathered at the bakery.

I didn't realize so many people have returned to the district, but there must be better than two or three hundred people milling about.

I also take in the other shops that have opened in some of the renovated spots. There is a clothing store, a seamstress, a hardware store, a feed store, a new post office, and several other shops around the square. On one side and open-air market place is operating and it reminds me of the hob – just not as dark and dreary.

There are a few stores that have been finished, but are not occupied, but one window catches my eye as I walk past. The name grips my heart – Hawthorne's Laundry. I wonder if Hazel and the family are returning to run a laundry service.

I am a little nervous at the thought that it could also mean Gale returning. We haven't spoken a word since our stare-down in the Capitol right after…I can't finish that thought. No matter what I do, I won't be able to separate the memory of my sister and the darker side of Gale that I discovered.

I have forgiven him in my heart for _having_ to have the line of thought he did to make such weapons. I know we may not be where we are without that type of thinking, but it's also that _win at all cost_ mentality that cost me my precious Prim.

Once I am finally able to make it into the bakery, I see a very flustered Peeta moving faster than I ever thought he could. It's fun to watch him in his element though. He talks to every customer as if he may invite them for dinner tonight. The place smells delicious and I am overwhelmed by the beautiful art he has used to decorate the building.

The last time I truly admired Peeta's skillful use of paints, I was on the train for the Victory Tour and I saw a room filled with horror and sadness as he had relived, through the canvas, the battles in the first arena. But today the walls are filled with bright abstracts and collages. My eye rests on one that is near a display case in the front window.

In the painting there are two figures, one taller than the other. Their faces lack detail but one has unmistakable blue eyes while the others are a grey sheen. The taller one has its head resting on the smaller figure as if it's protecting.

When I have almost dismissed it as another random abstract piece of art, I see the very detailed flower in the hand of the smaller figure. There is no denying that it's an evening primrose. A tear escapes my eye and my heart swells with love that he has captured my sister through this abstract.

I have nearly composed myself when I spot the delicate pastries that are filling the case near the painting. There are various flavors with white frosted icing in the shape of the primrose and the name card below them indicates that these are _Prim-Spice Signature Delicacies._ He has honored her by naming a line of pastries after her.

I can't control the flow of tears, but the smile never leaves my face. I turn just in time to catch Peeta's eye and he gives me a reassuring smile and a nod of his head. I mouth the words _thank you_ and he turns to the next customer.

After a leisurely walk past the square and through the seam, I am filled with new hope as I see so many houses going back up and the landscape doesn't look as dreary.

The Capitol has taken great pains to provide us with the supplies and equipment to rebuild the district. Other districts needed touching up after the war, but none were completely annihilated like district 12. There are numerous construction style vehicles and they have even re-surfaced the road leading through the seam.

It feels strange to be walking on an even and smooth surface. When I get to my old house, there is a bright orange sign stapled to a tree near where the front door used to be. It says that this property is scheduled for demolition, but I am pleased to see that in the box marked owner my name is printed clearly.

I make a note in my head to ask Delly what I would need to do to donate the land to someone else so they can build a new home and start new memories.

As the day winds down, and I have made my way to the edge of our district and back, I am relieved to see the group of customers has dwindled and the town appears to be slowing down a little.

I enter the bakery and realize that Peeta must have sold nearly everything he baked. I don't know how he will keep this pace up without some help.

When he emerges from the back, he smiles and crosses the room to where I am standing, wrapping me in his arms and then kissing me full on the mouth.

He smells like cinnamon and his lips taste a bit like a cream frosting.

"How much have you eaten today mister," I inquire?

"Oh, I have to sample everything when I am preparing it to be sure it tastes just right," he replies chuckling to himself.

He says he is almost finished preparing tomorrows products and then we can head home. I am looking forward to spending a quiet evening with Peeta.

As he turns off the lights, he is carrying a small box in one hand and answers my questioning gaze with "It's a very special surprise for tonight."

When we get to the house, he sets the box on the counter, makes me promise not to peek inside and then hurries next door to get cleaned up.

Part of me wants to tell him that he should move, at least, a few things over to my house so he doesn't have to keep going back and forth, and another part of me – my heart, screams that he should just move in with me.

When Peeta returns, I am sitting on the couch and Sae is in the kitchen. She only comes by two or three times a week now to prepare dinner. I think she comes by for the company and familiar faces more than to make sure we are eating.

"What's for dinner, "he asks with a hint of a smile?

"I am not sure, Sae ran me out of the kitchen a while ago," I reply.

"Well it smells wonderful, definitely something _different_," he says and walks past me into the kitchen.

After Sae runs Peeta out of the kitchen, he takes a _close_ spot to me on the couch. I smile at his closeness and the warmth of his touch as he traces my fingers with his own.

I notice the book of memories sitting on the table and it reminds me to tell Peeta that Haymitch has finally come around and wants to contribute to the book. We both know that he has so many years of _horror_ trapped in his mind. Maybe this will help him in some way like it has us.

When dinner is announced we quickly make our way to the kitchen and I am in shock at what I see on the table. There is a large pot of a steaming lamb stew and another container that holds fresh wild rice. The bread, obviously from a _baker_ who was in on this dinner plot, sits steaming on the table.

"What is all of this," I ask? I am shocked. This must have taken some planning and a little _ordering_ from the Capitol as we don't have anything like this in our district – at least not now.

"Happy Birthday Sweetie," is the response I get from Peeta.

In all the excitement of the day, I had actually dismissed my birthday. But Peeta remembered. His eyes tell me that he has remembered ever since the moment I mentioned it, and maybe even before. He knew so much about me before, maybe he knew when my birthday was too.

There is also another surprise. Beside the white box on the counter is a card with my name on it.

"The cake is by request from someone special Katniss," he says and hands me the card.

_My sweet daughter Katniss,_

_I want to tell you how proud I am of you. You have grown into such a beautiful young woman and make me so proud to be your mother. I am sorry that I'm not there in person to help you celebrate this wonderful day. I know one day I'll have the courage to return and see you, but for now, just know that I am thinking of you and holding onto the memory of this very day 18 years ago._

_You entered this world with a flurry. Your eyes were an impossible shade of grey that matched your father's perfectly. We were both so overwhelmed with the thought of raising a daughter. But I knew in the first hours that I held you, that you would be something special to everyone you would ever meet. Your energy and attentiveness, even in your first days on this earth, were amazing._

_I love you and hope your birthday is extra special. I am also so happy that you and Peeta are finding each other and that you have each other to lean on. Happy Birthday!_

_Love, Mom._

I can't believe it. My mother's note melts my heart and I am filled with a happiness that I never thought possible. This was truly an amazing day.

We all enjoyed a wonderful dinner and great conversation. Haymitch joined us and was sober – at least for the beginning of the meal. He offered me a birthday present of a bottle of red wine.

I have never been much of a drinker, really only having some of Haymitch's liquor after the announcement that I was going back into the arena and that resulted in the worst morning of my life.

I accepted a very small glass and Haymitch decided the bottle fit his hands best.

After dinner, Peeta revealed a personal treat – by request of my mother. The cake wasn't overly flashy or anything, but the beautifully hand-crafted frosted flower on top – of course an evening primrose, was done with such detail and skill that it was almost a shame to eat.

We all enjoyed a slice of cake and our dinner guests bid us goodnight.

Peeta and I stepped on the front porch and made our way to swing. It was such a pleasant night and being with him made it that much nicer.

After a few minutes of just sitting and holding hands, Peeta turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. With a smile he began to speak, but I was lost in those eyes.

"Katniss, I am so happy with you. I never dreamed I would get the opportunity to be this close to you. Even when I have small setbacks, I think I come out of them because I know that you are waiting on the other side. I don't know that I could ever go back to a life where you weren't a part of it," he says.

"Peeta, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that, after all that has happened and all we have been through," I tell him.

"This feels very familiar to me. Every day we spend together, I have more moments where I feel like I am experiencing déjà vu. It's like I am watching myself do something that was a routine thing just a year or so ago," he continues.

I am sure he has a lot of confusion when that happens. His heart is telling him one thing, reminding him of what we had growing between us and his mind is trying to sort through the mud created by the hijacking.

"Well we are here right now and we are _together_," I say.

Then I reflect on that. We are together. We have always been linked by our fate in some way or another, but I realize that my life is not complete without Peeta in it and I won't settle for anything less than that.

So in the warm late spring night, I turn to Peeta and lean into him, placing my lips so tenderly on his own. My hands find the back of his neck and I press my body to his. His lips part and I take the imitative this time to let my tongue explore his mouth.

His hands are around my back and gently caressing me, causing small shivers to run up and down my spine.

I feel a heat from within my core and know that he must be feeling the same thing. We continue to kiss and then he drops his head to the side of my neck and gently places small delicate kisses down to my collar bone. His hands have found the sides of my torso and are squeezing me as if he is gently kneading bread.

I hear a small moan escape my lips as his kisses continue. When he returns to my mouth we immediately _attack_ one another with our lips and continue this heated exchange.

After what felt like an eternity, Peeta pulls back and brushes a small strand of hair from my eyes. My smile feels like it has no beginning or end.

Katniss, you love me? Real or not real," he asks?

Thirteen years of passion and craving have culminated in his heart to this one moment. From the first time he saw me in school and all the years that followed – watching and waiting for life to give him a chance, and here it is. Yes, he has heard me profess my love for him before, but it is clouded in his mind. I know that he must know in his heart that I love him more than any other human being in this world, but his mind is searching for the ultimate confirmation.

I take his face in my hands and move slowly to his ear, with my lips almost touching his ear, I whisper – "real Peeta. Forever real."

We don't kiss again, but he takes me into an embrace and I can feel his shoulders shuddering as his tears begin to fall.

I didn't expect this. Maybe I didn't give the confusion the proper weight in my mind. But it's as if I have given Peeta the best news in the world. He knows I love him.

I hold him tighter than I ever have before, and my own tears begin to fall.

I know that I am opening my heart wide open to the a lot of possibilities that are scary and against all that I planned for my life, but that is what life is all about. It's about taking chances, chances that come with great risk, but an even greater reward.

I realize tonight that life is precious and unpredictable. I have always feared the Capitol, but that was just because it was what I could see the most. Life can change in the blink of an eye and this could all be over tomorrow.

I made a choice tonight to open my heart for the possibility of one night of pure joy and happiness and realize that if it was all taken from me tomorrow, it would be worth it. I would rather have one moment of happiness than a lifetime of regret for never having tried.

I also realize, tonight, that being in this position will certainly test my resolve at the boundaries I have set regarding marriage – true marriage and even children.

The thought scares me again, but the look in his eyes tells me that I will have a warrior helping me fight my fears and keeping my world safe.

When we climb the stairs tonight, we will do so as two people in love.

After 15 minutes of just staring at each other and our hands caressing one another, Peeta leans into me and kisses me again.

I was a little nervous that our front porch shenanigans would continue tonight and I can tell that it may be on his mind. But he stops and just looks at me with a fondness words can't describe.

"Katniss, will you marry me – again," he asks?

I give him a puzzled look. I have never really talked to him about the _marriage_ toasting we shared before on the train. I had really just chalked it up to a momentary thing that didn't have lasting meaning. But he knows. Whether he remembers it or someone reminded him of it, I don't know.

"Katniss, I know that we exchanged vows on the train before. I remember it, vaguely, and Haymitch filled in some of the blanks for me. But I want a crystal clear memory of pledging the rest of my life to you," he says as if reading my mind.

My great friend and father figure Haymitch – he may tell me a thousand times I don't deserve Peeta, but his has worked for two years now to make sure I had my opportunities.

"Nothing would make me happier Peeta, than to be your wife," I say.

Peeta reaches under my pillow and produces a diamond that I thought was lost. I don't even remember when it was separated from me, but it was the same ring that Peeta used when he proposed to me in front of the national audience.

I raise my brow and he replies, "Haymitch."

With a trembling hand, he slides the ring onto my finger and I know that it will remain there for all of my days.

I lean into another kiss, and we pick up pretty close to where we left off on the porch. Only this time there are no stop signs. Peeta's hands find the smooth skin on my stomach and then travel the short distance up.

When I feel his touch on me there, I am electrified and _hungry_ for him. We have shared an intimate moment like this only two other times. On our first wedding night, aboard the train and once more before we entered the arena a second time.

But somehow tonight it seems to be real and with lasting purpose.

Slowly our night clothing begins to disappear and our bodies meld into one. A perfect fit. I am overwhelmed by my love for this man but we are slow and deliberate. We are learning all aspects of our new love.

I know that there will be, hopefully, many more nights and times just like this one, but tonight is perfectly special.

Hours later, we are wrapped in one another's embrace and I let myself compile the daily list of what I am thankful for before drifting off to sleep.

My Peeta has returned to me and we are in love. For that I am eternally thankful.

**A/N: **Little different twist to the real, not real moment, but with the same purpose. I debated on bringing them to the _union _because I am old-fashioned and believe such acts of love are meant for the marital bed only, but they were, for all intents and purpose, already married before and have been _together _ in my other fic, so, on we went. I try to keep these stories on a "young readers" level so you won't find too much graphic description on acts of intimacy. The next chapter will cover more "time" and yes, we'll get these two hitched. I am spending some time thinking of some of the life experiences I want to take them through leading up to the epilogue. The original text doesn't lend much in the form of leads, but I will take every effort to keep the characters true to themselves as they venture down the road of life. Katniss will still suffer nightmares from time to time and Peeta will deal with the flashbacks. But they will do it together, that's who and what they are – a team.


	7. Married Again - For the First Time

**A/N: **I wrote the last chapter and found myself reading it again before beginning here. Not to say that I think I am a good writer by any means, but I love that moment where their love was complete, without reservation and without any barriers. So, on to the real life now. This will be the first of several chapters that deal with life issues and events. I may deviate from the original storyline and introduce the _family_ sooner. I kind of feel like I have a blank canvas as there is no real road map to take us from Real or Not Real to the original epilogue. So hang on, this could get interesting.

Thank you so much for the reviews. They are my inspiration to keep plugging away at this little adventure.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**Married again – for the first time**

I open my eyes to another morning without the agony of remembering any nightmares. If I had them, I don't remember anything about it.

I stretch my arms and feel a draft in the room. I then realize it is because I have nothing on except the bed sheet. I am a little self-conscious at my state of vulnerability, but will my mind to relax and remember the pure joy and magic of last night.

Peeta has gotten an early start according to the note I find on the pillow next to me, complete with a dandelion. It's the small things that will always bring this type of joy to my life. He is my dandelion in the spring, that fresh hope of new and better things springing up every day.

I reach into the nightstand next to the bed and pull out a journal. It has five entries already, and I turn to a fresh page.

_Dear Prim,_

_You won't believe what has happened between Peeta and I. He is back in my life forever-again. I knew that it would happen. It had to happen and it still feels so amazing that it did. We were also intimate again last night. Something that words just won't do justice. Oh, I wish you were here so I could talk to you and share my life and this new happiness with you. I miss you more every day. I hope you are smiling, wherever you are today. Oh, and Peeta continues to do things that show just how much you meant to him too. He re-opened the family bakery yesterday and there is a beautiful painting of us – I guess standing in front of the pastry window. It's not just any pastry window, but a new line of treats known as Prim-Spice Signature Delicacies. You two would be the best of friends. I am glad you got to know him. I know you are happy that he and I will spend the rest of our lives making each other happy and content. _

_Until we meet again – Katniss._

I started this journal to record my private thoughts, but it quickly turned into a journal where I could have _conversations_ with my sister. I miss her so much, especially when I have such a remarkable day in my life.

The battle between pure joy and excitement and looming depression weigh heavily in my mind today. I am almost caught off-guard by the suddenness of this melancholy I seem to be experiencing.

After a quick shower, a fresh brushing of my hair, which is making a remarkable comeback, and another once-over look, I go out into the bedroom and find some clothes to wear.

I have tears looming in my eyes and I just can't shake the feeling of emptiness in my heart. I shouldn't feel this way. I don't want to feel this way.

When I make it to the kitchen, I find fresh cinnamon bread with blueberries and another dandelion. A tear slides down my cheek. I can't wait any longer; I have to do something to get through this.

When I catch sight of the phone, I pick it up and instinctively dial the number. A deep voice on the other end of the line says, "hello."

"Dr. Aurelius, this is Katniss Everdeen. How are you today," I ask?

"Why Katniss, I am doing well, this is a bit unexpected, is everything alright, you sound very _emotional_," he replies.

I spend the next 15 minutes sobbing and explaining about the days leading up to this moment. I am confused and don't understand why such a string of happiness can lead to a day like this. He listens to every word and even patiently waits between the fits of crying.

When I have finished pouring my heart out, he tells me that what I am experiencing is not to be unexpected.

"You have to remember, my dear, that you are just barely four months removed from probably the lowest point in your young life," he gently says.

"You are going to continue to have good and bad days for some time. It is part of the grieving process. I am afraid that your guilt over not being able to protect those that have slipped away may be triggered the hardest when you experience a lot of joy that you obviously feel bad for," he continues.

I just listen and focus on each word he speaks.

"The important thing is, one, to realize that this is normal and there is nothing wrong with you. The second thing to remember is the hardest – that your lost loved ones would not want you to be burdened with guilt and sadness when this life is obviously trying to give you a fresh start," he finishes.

Before I can speak he quickly adds, "Remember – take deep breaths and remember that they all gave their life in order for those of us that are still here to have the experience of living in a world that is the polar opposite of the harsh times before."

I feel better knowing I am not insane. After the aimless wondering around in 13 and the obvious state I was in when I shot Coin, I was afraid that the label of _Mentally Disabled_ would become a reality.

I decide to tell him about the journal I started and he seems rather pleased that I came up with that form of therapy. "Sometimes putting our thoughts and words down on paper is a great way to release those feelings of guilt, and still feel like we are actively remembering our loved ones," he says.

In all the blubbering, I almost forgot the news that seemed to have triggered all this emotional train wreck.

"Oh, I also would like to tell you that Peeta proposed to me. He remembers so much of how our lives were and what he thought of me before the games. Memories I guess they didn't touch, and we just grew back together so quickly over the last couple of weeks. Yesterday was my birthday and one thing led to another, he admitted that he wanted more than a friendship with me and we ended up professing our love for one another," I say with a newfound enthusiasm.

"Katniss, I knew this would happen. I have prayed for it to happen ever since I released Peeta from my care. You two _deserve_ one another, especially after what you have endured. I could tell that the affection was still there, not what had grown since you two became an item between the games, but what was there since he first saw you," he finishes.

So that is what he _didn't say_ when we had spoken a month or so ago. I knew there was something left unsaid, but didn't really have the slightest idea what it could be. He was pushing for this to happen. I remind myself that there is no ulterior motive at work and quickly calm the anxiety of my life being run for me.

I thank him for taking the time to talk with me and promise to call soon.

My next call is to my mother. I want to share this news with her and hope that my happiness, however crazy it may seem will be a bright lining to her day. I know she has lost so much in her life and deserves any happy news she can get.

I hear the emotion in her voice as I tell her the good news. She gives me the _I told you so_ line, and asks me what we have planned for the wedding.

I admit that we haven't even discussed it, that the proposal was rather hurried last night and he is off working today.

She makes me promise that I will keep her posted with details. I don't dare ask if she will attend, because I don't want her to feel obligated to face her fears of returning to this district if she isn't ready. I owe her that bit of sanity.

As I take a walk down the lane, I start to wonder what I would like to have for my wedding. I am not looking for anything flashy. That has never been my style. I realize that his may be the first time in my life that I am thinking about this type of thing.

We exchanged vows before, but that was under duress. I didn't make preparations and I have always run as far away from the thoughts of marriage because that leads to vulnerability and I couldn't afford to take on any more in my life.

My relationship with Gale was as close as I had ever come to anything more than an acquaintance, and we had only mentioned getting married – not to one another, on one or two occasions. I adamantly refused the thought, and he made some comment about maybe - if he didn't live here.

But as I think about it this morning, I realize that I do want to include close friends and family. I haven't been the social butterfly of district 12 so my list of close friends isn't that long. But the names of Delly, and Sae come to mind first. I would love to have my mother, but will wait and see how that plays out. Then I think of other names that I haven't really thought about in a while. I think of JoAnna Mason and Annie Odair.

Of course I will ask Haymitch to be a part of this. He is like the father that I haven't had in my life. He drives me crazy, but I know he is always looking out for me. Maybe Peeta can round out the _guest list_ with his new friends and acquaintances.

I find my way to town and enjoy strolling through the market place. I find fresh berries and apples as big as your fist with a deep red coloring. I make a few purchases and decide to stroll through the rest of the square and see what progress is being made.

In front of the post office is a community bulletin board with an announcement that town elections will take place on June 1. Anyone that is 18 years and older will be allowed to cast a vote for their choice of mayor, and their choices for town council members.

There is also a request for those interested to apply for inclusion on the ballot for the new positions.

As Delly explained it to me, the town council would elect a member from within their council to be our national representative. That person would travel on a fairly regular basis to the Capitol to take part in the formation of the new constitution and to be a _voice _for our district.

When I turn from the board and glance toward the new shops that are opening up, I see movement inside the new laundry service.

I have been curious as to whether this was Gale's mother – Hazel who was opening up a business in the district, and now I am headed that way to answer my own question.

I open the door and see a face with a worn quality that can only be appreciated by someone that has lived where she has lived. This is the characteristic seam look that we came to know growing up. It's Hazel Hawthorne.

"Hi Hazel," I say.

"Well, Katniss, it is really you. Oh, sweetie you are such a sight for sore eyes, come here and let me see you. Oh, it is so good to see you looking so well, how are you doing," she inquires?

"I am doing well. Adjusting, but doing really well," I admit.

I tell her how happy I am that she has decided to move back and hint at the question that is burning in my mind – who else is coming with you?

She tells me that she just needed to be _home_. She was so thankful for the opportunity to live in district 13, but this would always be home to her.

After a few nervous moments she tells me that just she and posy are returning. Gale, of course, is working for the government now in district 2, Rory is finishing school in 13 and then moving to district 2 to join Gale. So it's just Hazel and Posy making a new start of things in district 12.

We continue to chat about all that has happened and eventually I let it slip that Peeta and I are getting married.

She pauses for a second, almost as if she is unable to think of the right words, but then says, "Katniss, I have and always will think of you as a daughter. You meant so much to our family over the years and I couldn't be happier for you. Peeta is a fine gentleman and I hope the two of you find a lifetime of happiness together."

I am speechless. Part of me expected her to be secretly hoping that there was still a chance for Gale and me, but she never hints at that thought.

I am curious if she knows the circumstances that have brought us to where we are with one another – Gale and I, but I don't dare start down that trail.

"Where are you planning to live? Are you building an apartment upstairs," I ask?

"That is a possibility. Right now we are staying with a friend who has rebuilt her house in the seam. My house is gone now, and honestly I don't think I could live there again. So many rough memories," she says.

Instantly I think about the plot of land that I have and I speak without really thinking about it.

"Hazel, I would like to give you the land that we used to live on. I have found that a fresh start somewhere new seems to help with the adjustment to this new world. And I would like to donate the house to be built there," I say.

I see a tear form in the corner of her eye and she just stares at me with her mouth slightly agape.

"Katniss, that is a generous offer, but I could never accept such a _gift_," she says.

"Hazel, you made sure my family was taken care of, the best you could, when my father died. Your son helped me survive and provide for my family. I have more than I will ever know what to do with and I want to return a small bit of the gratitude you showed me all those years," I say.

"I don't know what to say," she replies.

"Just say yes," I say with a smile and a reassuring squeeze of her hand.

She thinks for a moment longer and then smiles and says, "yes."

I leave the laundry service and make my way to the bakery. I want to share this news with Peeta. When I enter the bakery, I am surprised to see a young woman manning the counter and waiting on a customer.

Peeta catches my eye from the back room and motions me to come back to where he is busily working on a pan of fresh baked goods.

"Hello my sweet fiancé," he coos.

I lean across the counter with a soft kiss and say, "hello to you too."

"I see you have some new _help_," I say with a head nod toward the front counter.

The questioning look on my face tips Peeta off to my uneasiness about him working with someone so close to our age and obviously attractive.

"Oh, that is Bella. She is the wife of David Williams, my new employee. They were originally from district 8 and managed to escape when all the fighting began. They lost everything they had in the war, so they decided to start fresh somewhere that wasn't crowded and district 12 fit the bill," he says.

She is married and I am relieved. Suddenly, now that Peeta is mine, I am worried that everyone else will want him as well. I am reminded that I am broken goods and that a life with me is going to be anything but smooth and easy, especially for someone like Peeta who I am sure has an entire _happy ending_ already planned out.

I am also relieved that Peeta has some help here. After watching him work so hard the last couple of days, I was worried that our relationship would only exist over dinner, in bed at night and at the bakery.

Peeta gives me a look that tells me my episode this morning is still written across my face. He tells Bella that he will be right back and leads me out the back door to the small porch.

"What's up? I can tell you have something on your mind," he says.

I really don't want to burden him with my minds antics this morning, but I can't pretend anything when those eyes, so concerned and thoughtful, are staring me down.

"It has been a rough morning. I have had a lot of guilt over…well, just over some things," I say, side-stepping the reason for my guilt.

But Peeta doesn't miss a beat. "You feel guilty about being happy don't you," he asks?

"Well, yes. I guess I do. It just doesn't seem right that we should be this happy. Almost like we are forgetting everyone, especially her," I begin. The tears are welled up again.

"Peeta, she is the one that deserved to live in a world filled with this joy and excitement. Not me. I am not the deserving one. Her innocence and…," I say between sharp intakes of air and then I lose it.

Peeta is there, kneeling in front of me with those strong arms encircled around my shaking frame. His words are like soft breaths of wind as he whispers sentiments in my ear while rubbing my back in small circles.

"Kat, honey, it's alright. You are not forgetting anyone. We won't forget them. We have our book and we'll keep adding to it every time we have a new memory so we don't ever let them truly go," he whispers.

"Peeta I can't help but feel guilty about you too. I love you and I am so glad that you found a way back to me, to save me again, but I am so afraid I won't be what you deserve. I am so broken and messed up," I say – now with a little anger as I think of what the Capitol turned me into, or at least what their oppressive conditions fostered as I grew up.

Peeta seems taken back, as if I have hurt his feelings some, and stands with his arms folded across his chest.

"Katniss, I made a decision to never give up on my hope and dream of having a life with you. I chose to forget whatever craziness happened in the past and work every day to erase those feelings of fear and uncertainty that cloud my mind when I think of you. I want a life with you. I want both of us to be happy, and I don't want to waste even one second that we could share together as our love grows," he says.

Then he continues, "I don't know why we got this _second_ chance, but it is what we have today and I am looking forward – forward to a life with you by my side as my wife. We'll face whatever challenges and excitement comes our way – together," he finishes.

My fears have subsided and I am standing in the presence of _confidence and hope_. Peeta is my rock. Just like he was the one thing that could ground me when I was flying into frenzy over trying to impress the Capitol after our first game, and just like he did in the second arena.

I mentally add this to the list for today – _Peeta is my rock that I am thankful for._

"Thank you for being you," I tell him as I stand up to wrap my arms around his neck and then I am kissing his lips and feeling a familiar hunger rise up in my core.

I have to remind myself that we are standing at the back of the bakery. When we turn to go back inside, I remember my conversation with Hazel and tell Peeta what I did. I don't know if he ever had jealousy over Gale, but I am suddenly worried that he might not be very happy with my offer.

"I think that's a great idea. You will be happy, knowing you were able to help out someone that meant so much to you," he says.

I am relieved at his words and amazed all over again at how awesome he really is.

I decide to spend the afternoon in the woods, setting up snare lines and other traps. I want to get back into a routine of hunting and providing what I can to the people of the district. It helps clear my mind and gives me more purpose.

Sae and I have even had conversations about her opening up a stall in the market place, or a restaurant for that matter. She is such a great cook and a personable woman; I think it would be good for others to experience what I did growing up.

She said she would think about it.

After several hours of working in the woods, I am hot and sweaty and decide it time to go home, get cleaned up and wait for Peeta to get back.

I am sure there is a lot to talk about with the wedding and moving one of us to the other's house and more. I am nervous and excited all at the same time.

When Peeta gets home for the evening, I immediately wrap my arms around him and pick up where we left off this afternoon. I need him. I want him. He is obviously taken by surprise but wastes no time in catching up with the fire that has consumed me.

We don't even get out of the kitchen before clothes are lost and we add a culminating event to the list of things that happened today.

I am a little embarrassed. I didn't realize I had this side to me, but I guess it's normal to _enjoy_ new found activities. Peeta sure doesn't seem to mind.

While Peeta is cleaning up from the day's work, I get dinner prepared and I listen to him tell me all about his day. He gets to meet so many people and I am a little envious, but I am also glad that it's not me having to remember them all. I was never really good with opening up and getting to know people.

To be sure I am engaged in the conversation I suggest we invite his new employee David and his wife Bella for dinner.

"That sounds like a great idea," he says.

After dinner we slip outside and go for a walk around the village. Peeta breaks the silence by asking me what I would like to do for our wedding.

"I have no idea, I have never done this before. I never thought I would do this at all," I admit.

"Why is that," he asks? "I thought all girls dreamed about their wedding at some point in their life," he continues.

"Peeta, I was only focused on keeping my family alive and not putting myself in a position to lose anyone else close to me. I saw what it did to my mother and I thought that is how It would be for me if I ever opened up my heart to anyone," I replied.

I tell him about how I never had time to _dream_ about a life that would never exist. I also tell him that I couldn't fathom the thought of being married and one day having children that I would have to worry about being reaped.

The thought of bringing children into this world was so painful to me then, that I think it was hard-wired into my brain. I tell him, I don't know that I will ever be comfortable with having children.

Peeta never lets go of my hand as we walk, but I catch a glance at his face and I can tell there is some anxiety etched there. I don't know if it's something I said, or if he is having an episode.

"Are you alright Peeta," I ask?

When he doesn't answer, I become more nervous and even let my _fear _response begin to creep up. I have never been afraid of Peeta – since he returned to the district, but being out here, alone with him, I am a little nervous.

"Katniss, I won't lie to you, I do want a family. That is something I miss the most about my past, there was always a lot of noise in our house and people. We were family people. I want to experience all this life has to offer – with you," he says.

This is becoming one of the difficult topics that I knew might find its way into our lives. I am a little unsure how to respond, so I just stay quiet.

"I don't have to have anything else beyond you to make me happy. You are my world and I could never have another happy moment in my life and be just fine with all the happiness you have brought me to this point," he says.

He continues, "I just hope you will stay open-minded and don't fight natural feelings that may grow over time. You have shown glimmers of hope for a life that you never thought possible and with that hope, I think you will want more than you ever thought about growing up."

I am unsure, but I know that Peeta needs affirmation that I am willing to try and be open-minded, so I squeeze his hand and tell him that I love him. It might not be exactly what he wants to hear, but it's all I know to be certain at this moment.

"So about the wedding, what do you want, who would you like to have there," I ask, hoping to get his focus back to the one thing I have come to terms with in my life.

"I always envisioned a small intimate gathering, family…," he begins and then trails off.

I know that his loss of words is for the sudden realization that his family is gone. His father won't be there to help straighten his shirt and give him a hug that only a son's father can give. His mother won't be there, although that might be a blessing. His brothers won't be there to tease him and smile on as he achieves this milestone. He has no one.

My heart hurts at this realization. I am ridden with guilt at the thought that I caused this, but I am conflicted because I know that _we_ are planning our union and not the Capitol. Without the rebellious act, we may not have a say in how our lives are developing.

I accept the fact that I will always be conflicted when these memories or thoughts come up.

Peeta begins speaking again, after he has regained his composure, and finishes what he was saying, "…and friends. I don't want anything flashy and I get the feeling that you don't either. The flashy stuff reminds me of the Capitol and that never seemed real, even before my head was screwed up."

I laugh a little at the thought of how garish the weddings must have been in the capitol. These people dressed up like aliens just to go to the store, I can't imagine what a wedding would induce as far as fashion trends.

"I really wish my mother could be here, but I just don't think it's fair to ask her to come back here before she is ready. She may never be ready and I have to accept that," I say.

Peeta stops walking, turns to me and with a huge smile on his face, he says, "Then why don't we take the wedding to her?"

"What are you saying," I ask.

"I am saying, we should go to district 4 and get married there. Your mother would be there, and we could take Haymitch with us. What do you think," he asks?

The idea seems crazy to me. When I came back to the district it was forever. I would live out my remaining days in familiar surroundings.

I wasn't even sure if I was allowed to leave. I think that is what I was told when I left the Capitol that I was to remain in District 12 for the foreseeable future.

Peeta probably doesn't even know that I am actually _imprisoned _in this place.

"Peeta, I appreciate the idea and it would be great for my mother to be a part of it, but I am not allowed to leave the district. When I came back here it wasn't really voluntary," I say.

I quickly add, "I am glad that I am here, don't get me wrong, I can't think of anywhere else I would have gone, but I don't think I have the option to leave."

Peeta doesn't miss a beat. I think we have a connection that could help us figure it out. I know he is talking about Delly.

Delly has been working with the new government committees, mostly about setting up the local rule in district 12, but she would probably be the quickest way to get answers regarding my travel status.

When we make our way back home, we have decided at the very least, if we can't leave, we will have a private ceremony at our home, invite Haymitch, Sae, her granddaughter, David and Bella, Delly – of course, and I would like to call JoAnna and Annie. They might not make the trip, but they are the closest thing I have to friends, and I want to at least tell them.

We share tender kisses before falling asleep and I relax into his warm embrace.

_I am running through the woods, but it's not the woods I am familiar with. I don't think I am in district 12. But I am running, calling out her name. I can hear her screaming, but I can't see her. She keeps calling out something that doesn't register in my ears, but somehow I know she is calling out to me._

_Just as I get in the clearing, I see her dark hair as she is lifted by talons into a hovercraft with the Capitol seal on it. Then he is there, walking out of the woods, vile as ever. President Snow. He is laughing and I hear him say, "you didn't really think we wouldn't get her did you? Your precious daughter." That is when I hear scream and this time I clearly hear the word mommy. I lunge for her but can't reach her and just before I hit the ground…_

I jolt upright in the bed, startling Peeta and he comes up with a start as well and we end up hitting our heads together. It's dark and I am not sure if I am still in the nightmare or not. When my feet hit the floor, the room begins to come into focus and I see Peeta rubbing his head, staring at me with wild eyes.

"What's wrong," he asks?

I begin to cry. The thought of losing something that wasn't even real cuts to my soul and I can't stop crying. "I saw her Peeta, I saw my daughter and Snow had her, it was awful," I say.

"Oh honey, it was a terrible dream. You are here with me. No one can hurt our children," he says.

I pretend I didn't hear him refer to our children. I am sure it was a small attempt to put the thought of a family in my head. I almost laugh a little inside my mind.

Over the next couple of days, Peeta and I enjoy the normality of life. He works, I hunt and gather, we take long walks and grow closer and closer each and every day.

We called Delly and after 10 minutes of hysterical adolescent screaming, she promises to find out what the restrictions are and what we should do to make our wedding plans become a reality.

In my next conversation with Dr. Aurelius, I tell him of Peeta's idea and he also says he will see what he can do. He tells me that a big part of my _release_ conditions probably had to do with my stability. They couldn't hold me responsible for my actions because of my obvious mental state, but they weren't comfortable with just letting me run about the country either.

A week later, we get a visit from Delly.

"Katniss, it is so good to see you. I am so happy for you," she squeals.

"It's always great to see you too," I reply.

"Where is Peeta, working at the bakery as usual," she inquires?

It's where he always seems to be, especially with the business continuing to pick up. I am glad that he is successful with the bakery though. It gives him great pride to know he is providing for the citizens of our district just like his father did.

We decide to go visit with him and I tell her all about how we came to the point of getting ready for marriage. It is funny how I turn into a typical _giggling_ teenager when I am around Delly.

When we get to the bakery, Peeta comes from behind the counter and gives Delly a big hug, then leans into a warm kiss from me.

"What brings you back to 12 today," he asks?

"I wanted to tell you both in person, that…Katniss has no travel restrictions. As far as President Paylor is concerned she has been pardoned of any wrong doing. I think Dr. Aurelius spent some time talking with her and convincing her that you were not a threat and should be allowed to experience life to the fullest," she says.

I have a feeling of liberation. I don't think I ever felt _trapped_ so to speak, but knowing that I am free to go wherever I want to go, whenever I want to go is like a weight being lifted off.

I embrace Peeta and we share another kiss before we remember that Delly is standing right there with us.

My next hug is for her and I thank her for helping us. We then insist that she make the trip to District 4 and share in our special day.

After two days of phone calls, planning and coordinating we have lined up a date in late July to get married. It took us all of the two days to convince Haymitch to go with us. I think Peeta bribed him with a case of district 4 rum.

He pretends like we are an inconvenience but I saw the glint of a tear in his eye when we told him about our plans.

We have also decided that Peeta will move into my house – _our _home. I am sure this can be an adjustment, but we have practically been living together for so long now, that it is a welcome change.

I haven't had many nightmares since dreaming about my child being reaped into the Capitol's games, and I am glad. Peeta has also been mum on the idea of a family, but I know it will be a bridge to cross in the near future.

Just today, David informed Peeta that Bella was pregnant and expecting their first child next March. Peeta shares the news with me over dinner and I can't help but notice the elation in his voice.

I know Peeta will make a good father. That has never been a reservation, I just doubt my ability to be a good mother and, heaven forbid, something would ever happen to our child, my ability to continue to be a good partner for Peeta would surely disappear.

Peeta has taken a special interest in the new government developments and often spends his evenings in front of the television watching Capitol programming.

I don't know that I have turned on the television since I saw the reading of the card by President Snow before the last Hunger Games.

I pass these times, when he is preoccupied with the visual stimulus, by reading. Sometimes I read my father's plant book, other times it's the memory book. I have even turned to reading magazines. Apparently with the fall of the oppressive regime, publication has been on the rise.

No longer are we only subjected to what the capitol wants to force into our minds. Several people from the various districts have taken to sharing their ideas and opinions about life and district traditions. It is quite interesting to learn more about a district than what they could do to make the Capitol comfortable.

Tonight is like any other night until I hear my name being mentioned on the television. Peeta perks up and glances at me with a questioning look on his face. The reporter has just said that there was a special news piece about two former victors from district 12.

My heart sinks a little bit. Just the very mention of my name in that Capitol style accent makes my skin crawl. I can't imagine I would ever want to venture back to that place. It was spectacularly awful all three times I have visited it before.

When the program resumes, we are both glued to the screen to see what this special report could mean. The reporter appears on screen and informs that whole nation that he can confirm through his sources that:

_Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen are planning to be wed in the near future. The star-crossed lovers of district 12 that captured our hearts have apparently decided to make their relationship official. _

_Our very own Izzy McDonnell is one her way to the district as we speak to get an exclusive interview with the happy couple. Perhaps we can even convince them to let us throw them the wedding that never had a chance before._

We both say it out loud, simultaneously, "interview?" Just when I thought I was forgotten about, now I would have to deal with this again. It's not that I despise those that live in the Capitol. I have long since realized that everyone in this nation was merely a puppet in some way or another, controlled by Snow.

But the thought of the poking and prodding into my delicate life by those that are more interested in the daily gossip than they are in the stories that make each person who they are; it's just too much to consider.

"Peeta, I have no desire to be interviewed about any of this. How in the world did they find out about us," I ask?

"Have you talked to someone in the Capitol," I prodded farther?

"Absolutely not. Katniss, I am just as shocked as you. I don't have any interest in being a public spectacle either," he replied.

There is an edge of hurt in his voice that I would even ask him such a question. He is flustered. Probably more so than I have seen in a while.

When the programming resumes again, they decide to dig up old footage of us in the cave and on the beach to play in the background as they rehash what we went through to get to this point.

I can't believe they have gone down this road. I think it should be a criminal offense to even air any part of these horrible tragedies.

While my disgust is getting the best of me, I realize my Peeta is staring at the images, then briefly glancing at me. His eyes have lost their blue and his pupils are completely blown out of proportion.

"Peeta, please – calm down, it's alright. I am here, whatever you are thinking, it's not real. Right now, me, here with you – that's real," I say.

He gets up from the couch and walks toward the kitchen. I can see he is trembling and I am very worried that these images, most likely heavily used during his hijacking, have been flashed in front of him again.

Sweat has formed on the back of his neck and all the color has drained from his hands that are clenched so tightly to the back of the chair.

I slowly get up and take a step toward the kitchen when he throws the chair across the room into the cabinets on the opposite side.

His breathing has increased and I am truly afraid that he'll hurt himself or me for that matter.

My head is telling me to turn and run, but my heart keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground. I continue to talk softly, willing him to return to his normal state and back to me.

He has moved to the back door and just as he is about to open it, I spring into song. I don't know why, but I think it was more out of nervousness and fear.

When I was younger, and afraid, I would find myself scared to death, yet singing as if my voice could ward off whatever had traumatized me.

The song that popped into my head was the Valley song. I haven't sung a note of this song in so many years, yet the words are flowing from my mouth as if I learned it yesterday.

When I stop thinking about the oddness of my signing, I look back to Peeta and realize he has released the door knob and is staring at me. His pupils are slightly smaller and he has the look of a frightened deer trying to decide if it should bolt to safety or wait it out.

I am not brave enough to cross the room, but keep singing and staring into his eyes. With each verse, I can see the color return to his cheeks and after five minutes he lets out a breath of air as if he had been holding it in since I started.

"That…song – it's so familiar to me. You have sang that in front of me before, real or not real," he asks?

"Real Peeta, when I was five years old – on the first day of school," I reply and now I am moving toward him.

I reach out a tentative hand toward his shoulder and he watches my every move, but does not try to stop me. After a few more seconds, my other hand finds him and I slowly start to real him in to me.

After what seemed like an eternity, his head is on my shoulder and he has returned my grasp. He whispers, "I love you, I am sorry."

"Peeta it's alright, I am here and we are together. That's all that matters. I will _always_ be here to help you," I say.

Later that night after the most passionate love-making I have experienced thus far, I am in his arms and silently humming the valley song that I sang earlier.

We both agreed that we would reach out to the Capitol and try to think of a compromise that will keep them at bay and not disrupting the quiet life of District 12.

I finally figured out the fact that Delly was working so hard to get my _confinement_ released, that word must have spread about Peeta and me in the Capitol.

The next few weeks fly by. Most of the new shops in town have opened, and more and more people are finding their way to our district. All told we probably have somewhere between 900 and 1000 residents living in 12.

The biggest influx of new residents came with the announcement that the Capitol was building a large factory that would make medicine and other medical supplies. We would be the main plant for the whole nation.

It is refreshing to know that no one will ever have to depend on a dirty and dangerous coal-mining job to provide for their family.

Other new additions include a new school and some type of education center that teaches other vocational skills that are unique to the other districts. Since no one is regulated to stay in one district any longer there are opportunities to become skilled in other trades.

When we finally reach the day that we are to leave for District 4, I have a level of anxiety and nervousness that I have never experienced. It is one thing to be marrying your best friend, but the thought of seeing my mother for the first time since I left District 13 is overwhelming.

She was speechless when I told her that Peeta and I were coming for a visit. We decided to save the wedding as a special surprise when we arrived.

There was a level of fear when I boarded the train, as I had momentary flashbacks to the times I had been on the train before. Even Peeta was a little apprehensive about riding on the train again.

It was unique this time though because there were others traveling with us for the wedding and other people we didn't even know who were just making journeys to other parts of the nation.

The ride to district 4 was rather short, less than a half day. I had visited the rest room on three different occasions to calm my nerves and collect myself.

When the train came to a halt, I grabbed Peeta's hand like a small child who was suddenly shy about meeting strangers.

That feeling only lasted long enough for JoAnna Mason to call out, "Hey Brainless!"

My _friend_ – I use the term loosely as we had a love-hate relationship, was standing on the platform and giving me a smug smile.

Peeta broke the stare down with a well timed, "Hey JoAnna, it's good to see you; you look as beautiful as ever."

Peeta would always amaze me with his ability to speak his way into any heart.

We made our way through the station and just as we stepped outside to the street, I saw her. Her face shows signs of sleeplessness and age, but her beauty is remarkable and the smile is genuine.

I drop my bags and run into the open arms of my mother. We have both burst into tears and hold each other impossibly tight.

"Oh Katniss, sweetheart, I have missed you so much. You look so good. Oh, It is just so wonderful to finally be able to hold you again," she says.

I am at a loss for words. I just hug her tighter and continue to let the tears freely fall.

After a few minutes of re-bonding, I finally let go and we follow her to a waiting bus. It seems that the Capitol had all sorts of transportation capabilities and now that the nation is not under the iron grip any longer, different districts are slowly getting some of the amenities.

When we reach a townhouse that sits just yards away from the blue ocean, she says, "This is it, this is where I live now."

It's a beautiful home, small, but so warm and inviting. The sound of the ocean carries through the open windows and the smell of salt water permeates my senses.

My mother has now turned her affections to Peeta and he is blabbering about what a wonderful daughter she has. Smoozing the in-laws, so Peeta.

After dinner, the doorbell rings and a face that I haven't seen, other than my nightmares, is standing there looking at me, and holding a bundle with a smiling little boy wrapped inside.

Annie Odair smiles at me and says, "It is great to see you Katniss."

Her expression says that it might be great to see me, but it also stirs up a feeling of loss. I am feeling it too. Annie has been the subject of many nightmares. In each of them, I am desperately trying to save Finick from the awful death by the mutts, and each time I fail.

I see her crying in my dreams, with a pregnant belly, or standing over his dead body holding a bundle. Now that I have seen his sweet face, I am sure that bundle will no longer remain faceless in my nightmare.

Peeta doesn't miss a beat and begins to coo at the infant. His eyes light up around children. It breaks my heart and yet warms me in a way.

Annie says his name is Fin. She wanted him to have his father's name, but didn't think she could bear to keep calling out Finick. I realize just how fragile she is. Just like me in a way. Still processing the grief.

We are all sitting out on the back deck looking at the ocean when Peeta gives me a look that I should break the news to our little party about our real intentions with this trip.

"Mom, everyone, Peeta and I want to let you know of a little surprise we have planned. You all know that he proposed to me last month. Well, we wanted to be sure that all our friends could share in the happiest moment of our lives. So we decided to get married here in district 4," I say.

My mother has tears forming in her eyes as she claps her hands over her open mouth. "I have worried so much about whether I could go back to 12 and be a part of your special day. I have lost sleep over this, and…oh, you have made me the happiest woman today. I am so glad I can share in your moment," she says.

"Well good for you two. Always knew you two would get hitched somewhere down the line. He's whipped over his love for you and you're still brainless. It's a match made for the ages," Joanna pipes in.

We explain that we plan to get married on the beach at sunset this Saturday – in two days. My mother sets to work on making arrangements for the ceremony and Peeta borrows her kitchen to make our wedding cake.

It might seem weird to others for him to make his own cake, but I can't imagine a better wedding gift than a creation crafted by his sturdy hands.

Haymitch has even agreed to _give me away_ a thought that makes him smile a little mischievously.

"You're just walking me down to Peeta, we're still riding home on the same train as you, so don't get to excited," I remind him.

Saturday comes quicker than I expected and as I watch the sun begin to dip toward the sea, I go into our room and change. I found a dress with Cinna's special touch that I know he made with this day in mind. It is a white sun dress that falls just to my knees. But interwoven is the most beautiful _sunset_ orange. I feel like I could float to the beach in this outfit. Peeta will love it.

I take my place at the top of the walkway, and I can see the small group gathered below in the sand. There is a small fire burning just beyond the flowered altar where we will have our toasting.

I tell Haymitch I am ready and we begin the walk toward my soon-to-be husband. This is how I would have imagined it had I ever taken the time to think about it. I am sure of it. It is a perfect evening.

When I reach Peeta, Haymitch gives me an unusual kiss on the cheek and I swear I see a tear in his eye. I loop my arm through Peeta's and we turn to face the sea. A new stipulation by the government is that an official of the district be present and have you each recite a pledge of faithfulness to one another.

It is more or less generic vows, but a requirement for them to give you an official marriage certificate.

After our mandatory vows, we turn to one another and I speak first:

"Peeta, you are my life. You are every breath that sustains me. I would be nothing without you in my life. I am so happy to be standing here today pledging my love to you forever. I am grateful for all that has been sacrificed to make this possible and I promise to love you forever. I promise to always remain faithful to you and stand by you no matter what life may bring. I love you."

Peeta takes a deep breath to compose his emotion. I could see his lip quivering and know that his sentimental heart must be over-flowing. He then says:

Katniss, you are the radiant hope in my world. You have been the object of my affection, love and desire since we were little kids. I have no memory that doesn't include you, and I don't want to have any future memory that is any different. What we have faced together to this point has made me love you more than I ever knew was possible. I pledge my love to you forever, and promise that I will never leave you and that I will _always_ be faithfully yours. I love you – forever and _always._

We place solid rings made of something called titanium on each other's left hand, symbolizing our commitment with no end. We then turn to the fire and each pick up a slice of the break prepared for this moment. We hold our individual pieces in the flames and then remove them as they toast to a golden brown. I gently take my bread and face Peeta. He does likewise and faces me. I want to remember his eyes as they are this very moment, for the rest of my life.

With delicate motions, we feed each other the slices of bread. The official says that we have met the requirements and he is proud to recognize us as Mr. and Mrs. Peeta Mellark. A well-timed kiss and cheers all around signify that we have officially become one. One unit with two souls moving forward each day facing challenges and enjoying triumphs.

As we walk hand in hand down toward the water we both watch the sun as it melts into the sea. It is as if we are watching our past, all our grief and all our pain that had to be endured to get here, melt away from our lives forever.

We never want to forget our past. We are who we are because of it, but I finally feel as though the grip of it has been released.

I silently look to the heavens and smile as if I can see Prim's face beaming with joy. I imagine that she is crying tears of joy and I promise to live my life to the fullest with her radiance in my heart.

Each new day will be a day that I can wake up and know that I am a Mellark. I am Peeta's wife, his partner, his lover, his best friend and most of all, his perfect match. I know we will have our valleys and we will have our disagreements and we will have moments where we question the sanity of this moment, but our love will always bring us back to each other and each day the sun will set on a growing love that is unbeatable.

I trust Peeta and standing here on this beach, I entertain for the first time in my life, the thought of one day building our own family together. _Small steps. _That's what has brought us together and that is what will carry us forward.

**A/N: **Wow, my longest chapter yet. I should probably break these things up a little bit, but this one was important. I wanted to get them married and have them deal with some of the issues that were sure to be there that had us waiting 15 years for children. I also liked the idea of not bringing her mother to 12. I think that was an important part of the original work by SC, and I wanted to find a way to stay true to that. I imagine the next chapters will cover more ground (time wise) and may be shorter in length. Your reviews are wonderful and I love to hear them (good or bad). So review away and until next time…


	8. First Day

**A/N: **So we got married. I have read so many conflicting ideas about whether they got married or not. I have always leaned toward the idea that if she had been able to deal with bringing children into the world then she also got through her issues of being married. So I believe it happened. What will happen from here on out. Who really knows? Life. Life is like the rolling hills of her Appalachian homeland, many peaks with sun shine and warm breeze and just as many deep dark valleys. Enjoy.

Thank you so much for the reviews. They are my inspiration to keep plugging away at this little adventure.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**The first day**

Yesterday, I married Peeta Mellark…for the second time in my life. The setting was beautiful and the best part of it all was that my mother was looking on with a small tear in her eye.

My mother and I have grown into a newfound mother-daughter relationship over the past few months. It was almost surreal on the phone all those times, and I was secretly nervous about seeing her in person again.

I wasn't sure how I would react or how my presence would affect her with the so much emotional turmoil surrounding us over the past two years.

When we saw each other on the train platform though, all the fears disappeared and something that was buried deep in my heart flooded over. I felt like I was 10 years old and my mother was there to comfort me – to make all my fears disappear. I felt like we were beginning the first day of our new lives.

This trip to district four has held a lot of firsts. Peeta and I will venture out on our first days as an official couple – though we have felt that way for a while now. I got to meet Annie and Finnick's son for the first time. I ventured away from my district – turned confinement camp for the first time since I altered the course of our new history. So many firsts. It was like a rebirth of sorts.

All of these thoughts have crossed my mind as I lay in bed next to my husband. The sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the shore woke me up a little while ago, and like I have so many times before, I just wanted to watch him sleep.

I feel like I finally did something that made Peeta happy – truly happy. When we exchanged vows he held a glow as if a dream had come true. I don't think I am the answer to anyone's dreams – more than likely the source of their nightmares. But his look and that smile made me feel like I finally came through for him.

Of course, I also got the benefit of finding my way back into his life. As a young girl, I was afraid of losing the most important people in my life. It is why, as a teenager, I vowed to limit that number to the bare minimum. Falling in love with Peeta increased my chances of loss, and I suffered that nightmare for over a year when he was hijacked from me. But like his dream coming true in finding a life with me, I was given an undeserved opportunity in life. It is very rare to have a piece of your heart torn out and then returned to you later, seemingly unscathed.

But this morning, I am thankful that I got, what I was sure was lost, back in my life, and back in my heart.

We are going to spend the next two days in district four meeting some of Finnick's family and enjoying the sites before heading back to our district.

Peeta has been at the bakery non-stop since he returned to district 12 – rebuilding and then working. He was well overdue for a break, but I know it is bothering him not being there. He isn't worried about the money he may or may not be making, but he has a sense of pride at providing baked goods for his fellow citizens.

I think he gives more bread away than he actually sells, but he vowed on the day of the reopening that no one in our district would ever know the fate of starvation as long as there was fire in the oven, and ingredients he would provide for those of our district. I love this man.

I finally decide to _rouse_ my sleeping husband. It doesn't take much to get him to smile and open his eyes. "Good morning my sweet husband," I coo softly in his ear.

"Good morning to you, my beautiful wife," he replies back.

After more than enough good-morning kisses and a near decision to just stay in bed the entire day, I finally put my feet on the floor and make my way down the hall to the bathroom.

I can smell freshly cooked bacon and eggs and my stomach reminds that I haven't eaten well the last day or so. Too much nervousness over the wedding I suppose.

Yesterday afternoon, before the wedding, we talked about visiting with Finnick's family. Annie was so eager for us to meet them. I didn't give it much thought, but this morning, the realization of having to look into the faces of his parents and siblings has me very uneasy.

I feel more responsible for his death than most. I nearly cost him his life in the arena on more than one occasion as he took attackers on to defend me. Then on the assault in the Capitol, my stubbornness to move up the ladder quicker, leave Peeta behind may have cost him the precious seconds he needed to escape the mutts.

Whatever it is, I feel guilty this morning. I know that these feelings will always arise in me. I just can't help it.

Breakfast ended too quickly and it was time to head out. I take Peeta's hand and squeeze it a little too hard. I know he can tell what I am thinking, sometimes, even before I know what it is. He squeezes back and smiles at me with a warm caring smile that says _I understand, it will be alright, I am here._

Walking along district 4, it has a similar feel to our district. They are rebuilding. They weren't obliterated the way we were, but the war took its toll. I remember being here during the victory tour and thinking it was the most beautiful place I had ever been. The oppression didn't seem as heavy here, but I was a little preoccupied with discovering my true love for Peeta during that visit.

As we pass the hospital, my mother smiles and gestures for us to look at where she spends most of her waking moments. I know she feels a great sense of pride being able to work in a real hospital. Though she never received formal training as a healer, my mother was the only one you sought when medical help was needed. To have her skills recognized here among trained physicians is special to her.

I am glad that I didn't have my wedding back home. I am glad that I didn't make her feel like she had to leave here. This is her life now. I wish my family was complete back home, but that won't ever be a reality. I have started a new family with Peeta and that is what will exist in district 12.

When Finnick's father opened the door, I was staring at the impossible green eyes that made his son stand out immediately. He was an aged version of his son, but they shared an uncanny resemblance.

What he did next though, alleviated all my fears. He wrapped me in a warm embrace and thanked me for freeing him.

I have never thought of it that way. Freeing him, or anyone for that matter, was the furthest thing from what I thought my little trick with the berries had done.

"My son gave his life for that freedom and you being here today, married to your childhood sweetheart, and seeing my grandson – knowing he'll never know what it's like to live in a world with Hunger games – that conquers any fear or sadness we may have in our heart," he boldly stated.

Finnick's father has such an air of confidence about him. It wasn't hard to see why Finnick was able to present himself with such charm and assurance. I miss him.

The real pain lies in Annie's heart. It isn't hard to see that she is struggling with the loss. She wasn't exactly _balanced_ before this happened, and now she is left in this newfound world alone and trying to raise a boy without the guidance of a father.

My mother told me after we left and said our goodbyes that Finnick's parents basically adopted Annie and little Fin, determined to help her raise him and always take care of her.

"She was Finnick's sole reason for going on every day, according to his father, so I know she will always be in good hands," she said.

Our time in district 4 was surreal and before we realized it, over.

Standing on this platform at the train station again is bitter-sweet. I know my mother will promise to come see me sometime soon, but something in my heart tells me it may never happen. We talked briefly about some of the rebuilding, but the conversation always changed and I can see a pain that knows no depth in her eyes.

"I love you mom," I say through teary eyes.

"I know you do, and I love you too – both of you so very much," she replies.

"We'll keep in touch and I'll try to come see you very soon, I promise," she says with a shaky voice.

I give her one more hug and then Peeta steps in and wraps her in a warm embrace, promises he'll take great care of me and that we can be here in no time if she ever needs anything. Always thinking of how he can help someone.

I can't help laugh at Haymitch. By the time the doors to the train had shut, he was in his coat pocket fidgeting with a flask. After a very long _pull_ on the silver container, he swallowed, grimaced a little and let out a sigh as if he might have burst if he had to endure one more minute of soberness.

I wonder if I am supposed to do anything differently now. I don't feel different. I know that I am married, but I don't know if that means routines have to change, or what. I want to learn to cook a little better. Sae can't feed us for the rest of our lives and cooking for my husband seems to be something I should do. Somehow I know that the roles may be reversed there. Peeta will probably be more than happy to cook our meals seeing how I nearly start a fire each time I try.

There is another nagging feeling in my heart, a conversation that we have only broached slightly, but that I know will have to be faced somewhere down the road – children. I couldn't help but notice the way Peeta interacted with little Fin.

His face lit up like a little kid with a bag full of candy. It was fun to watch him. He was so gentle and at ease around the little one, as if he had been preparing his whole life to be a father.

I, on the other hand, acted like I was holding a bomb that could explode at any minute. When Fin was in my arms, my heart was racing and the anxiety threatened to destroy me. I am not really sure what I am afraid of. My initial fear, growing up, was that I never wanted to be one of the adults standing in the back of the square watching my child climb those stone stairs to be whisked off to their death.

But those days are gone. There are no more Hunger Games. They are erecting memorials at all the arena sites, which are being torn down soon. At least that is what I heard on the news one evening. So with that possibility gone forever, what is the hold up?

I think it has more to do with the possibility of loss. The Hunger Games were just one avenue that a child's life was taken. In my district it was nothing to see whole families starve to death, or succumb to the elements of a harsh winter.

There is no guarantee, even without the Capitol taking them away, that that natural order of this world wouldn't rip a child from my life.

I silently hope that we don't have to have this conversation anytime soon. I force the thoughts from my head and just concentrate on spending the train ride cuddled with Peeta.

I dosed off during the train ride and was plagued by a fresh nightmare. I can hear a child screaming and somehow I know that the screaming is directed toward me. I am in the woods and it's dark and dreary. My eyes dart back and forth as my ears try to give me an indication where to turn and where to look. The cries get louder and louder, but no matter where I go, I can't seem to find the source.

I wake with a start and a sharp inhale of breath. I don't dare tell Peeta when he asks what I was dreaming about. "Just a nightmare," I say. The last thing I want to do is bring children to the forefront of his mind.

When we arrive back in the district, it's late evening and immediately we are dealt a blow to our heart.

Tragedy struck our little district the day before we returned home. According to David, Peeta's assistant, a little 10 year-old boy was killed when he fell down an old mine shaft. He was playing around the old abandoned coal mines in the seam. There is an air of somberness that I likened to my first few days in district 13.

After a war and growing up in a world where countless children were sacrificed, you would think I would be used to a child's death, but this struck me so deep.

I don't even know the family, but my heart pours out for them. All of a sudden the memories of Prim, when she was just 10 years-old, slam into my head.

I just can't imagine what that family must be feeling. The loss of a child is unbearable. I think about how just a couple days ago, I let the thought of having a family enter my mind and it makes me sick. I just can't do that. I can't let the possibility of losing a child enter my life. I just don't think I could ever recover from something like that.

The stark difference between the way Peeta and I process things like this are glaring. He immediately suggests that he and David contact the family and offer baked goods to help feed the family as they gather to mourn their loss. I curl up in a ball in the corner of the bedroom and cry.

As night falls, I hear the backdoor open and know by the foot fall that Peeta has arrived back home. I pull myself up off the space in the corner I have occupied for the past few hours and meet him at the top of the stairs.

He simply wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. We don't have to say a word. I understand his need to help in any way he can, and he appreciates the delicate nature of my heart and how events like this can easily send me back to the dark days of depression I suffered so greatly when I returned home.

Even though his strong arms are there to hold me, I am in the midst of horrible nightmares. It's the same one I had before where I can hear a child crying and somehow know that it's my child. No matter how hard I try, I can't find the source of the cries and they get louder and louder. No one helps me, everyone I run past just stares at me and when I think I can't take it anymore, I spring up in the bed and scream out in the dark night.

Peeta is instantly up with me and holding me. I don't even know if he has been to sleep. His whispers are like magic as my breathing slows and just the sounds of my soft whimper can be heard.

"Peeta I can't…I just can't ever do that," I say as if he will know exactly what I am talking about.

"Can't do what sweetheart," he asks?

"I can't bring children into this world. I can't trust myself to be a good mother to them and keep them safe. I can't risk losing them, I just can't do it," I say in a half scream.

"Katniss, I know this isn't easy. No one should ever have to deal with this kind of grief. You can't think this way though. It's alright to be scared, but…," he begins, but I cut him off.

"Peeta, don't say it. It's NOT alright. It never will be. Promise me that we won't even have this discussion – not now, not tomorrow, never," I say, now in a panic.

I am pleading and desperately begging him to give up any thought of expanding our family. I know that, but right now I don't care.

"Katniss, I told you before that I don't need anything more in my life other than you. I love you and want to do everything I can to make you happy and at peace," he began. Somehow I sense there is a _but _coming.

"But, I can't swear to you that I will never _want _to have a bigger family with you. I can't promise that," he finishes.

His eyes show fear and alarm as he searches my soul for how I am going to react. I could scream at him and storm out of the room, close myself off to the world and forget that I ever opened my heart again. It would be an easy thing to do.

But that is not what I want to do to this man. I love Peeta. I want to make him as happy as I know he is trying to make me.

I just start crying harder and Peeta doesn't say a word. He stands up and takes me into his arms. He continually whispers that he loves me over and over, and slowly pulls me back toward the bed.

I don't know how I will ever be able to accept the idea. In this moment, though, I have found a new respect for Peeta's courage. He could have easily just agreed and made empty promises, but he stood his ground – gently, but he still stood.

That warms my heart in a way that he has purpose and plans for us, but it also unnerves me to think that he stood his ground on something that I am completely against. I envisioned the two of us being on the same path in all aspects, with one common focus in our lives, but at the very beginning, I can see we are miles apart on a huge part of being married and sharing our lives with each other.

I drift off to sleep and, thankfully, avoided any new nightmares.

My hunter's instinct kicked in before the sun was breaking the mountain tops. My heart and mind knew that I needed to be in the woods today. It feels like I haven't been out there in months. I am up, even before Peeta which is something, as he is always one of the first merchants in town – preparing sustenance for all those we share our little district with.

The smell of worn leather fills my nostrils as I slip into my father's hunting jacket. This feels right. I am out the door and walking down the lane towards the town.

I turn for the woods just before the square and within a few minutes I am surrounded by a familiar darkness. The forest is just coming alive and I inhale deeply.

I know exactly where I am going this morning – the lake. I need the serenity of my father's favorite place. All along the way, I have a private conversation with Prim. I am pleading with her to understand why I can't have children.

I finally decide she is on Peeta's side. The tugging of my heart – the pleading voice in my head that says _never say never_ is louder and louder. I finally give in and throw up my hands and say, "ok, I won't say never, just definitely not anytime soon."

When I reach the lake, a layer of sweat covers my body. The humidity is going to be high today. Even before day break, the heat build-up in the forest and in the hills of the district is stuffy.

I am not sure that I planned this – well of course I didn't, or I would have brought a change of clothes, but I drop my bow, arrows and remove my clothes. Without a second thought, I am down to my underwear and diving head-first into the cool water.

I stay under for as long as I can manage, before clawing my way to the surface for a mandatory breath. The water feels absolutely divine on my bare skin. I settle into a comfortable stroke and move around the lake.

I have to find things to occupy my time. I will hunt as often as I can, that is a given. But I feel like I need to be useful to the town in some way.

Peeta is the baker. He has purpose and a place in the new community. I have never had that purpose to the district, only to my family. I don't really have a specific skill set that I could offer like my mother and Prim did. If they were here, they would certainly be running the family apothecary service.

I can see Prim wearing the white outfits that were common in district 13. Her heart pouring into her work as she tended to the needs of the sick and injured. Those thoughts quickly bring the image, the last image I remember of her as she ran into that square thinking only of anyone she could reach to help. I close my eyes tightly and will that image to leave my mind before I see her death again.

I guess I could be in that singing show that Plutarch Havensbee suggested when we were returning to district 12 from the Capitol. I laugh a little and swallow some water, choking, but still laughing. _Katniss Mellark, the singing sensation from district 12_, I think out loud. As if I would ever give anyone, voluntarily, the opportunity to plaster me on the television again.

I decide that I will just keep my mind open and see what niche I can fit into. I return to the shore line and retrieve my clothes. The sun is peeking over the ridge line and I realize that I would be a sight for anyone out roaming around.

Even though this lake is secluded, the lack of people being restricted to the fence means curious wanders could find it. What they don't need to _find_ is a naked 18 year-old with fire mutt skin.

After some drying out and the two hour hike back to the town, I am worn out and hungry. I decide to head to the bakery. When I walk through the front door, Peeta springs around the counter and wraps me in a warm embrace.

"I was worried about you this morning," he said.

"I am a big girl and the woods are like a second home to me," I replied.

"Oh, I know, but after last night, I was worried about…," he says, but doesn't finish the sentence.

"Really, I am fine, and I'm sorry for the little _episode_," I say and give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

I graciously accept the offer of fresh pastries for breakfast and take a seat on the other side of his prep counter.

Peeta and David exchange small talk and I just watch them work. David learned some basic baking skills from his mother before the war and Peeta has taken delight in honing those skills. He knows that having two skilled sets of hands means being able to handle more business.

I know that having someone you can trust to help with your business means the greater likely hood that Peeta won't have to work every single day of the rest of his life. I am jealous of his time I guess. Somehow I feel like we have been through so much turmoil that we deserve a little time to ourselves to be worry free.

And so our days go by like this. It has been close to a month since I had that moment of great thought about how I could contribute, yet nothing has materialized.

The machinery arrived about a week ago to begin working on the new factory. It will be something to see a shiny new building sitting on a site that used to be like a prison for so many men in our district.

When they tore down the entrances to the old mine, it was bittersweet. I felt like the door to my father was slammed shut. It was comforting to know that there would be no chances for future mining accidents in our district, but this was hallowed ground where my father gave his life.

Peeta suggested some sort of memorial to remember all the men that sacrificed their lives in that pit. I love the idea. It is wild to see how much influence Peeta has on the town. He has won their hearts – through their stomachs no doubt, but honestly by his charm and genuine caring spirit.

One day, over lunch with Delly, she suggested that Peeta should run for a spot on the new town council.

"Oh Peeta, you would be a great member. You have a passion for seeing District 12 become something special and everyone just loves you," she squealed.

The thought of Peeta being a part of the government, at first, is repulsive, but this isn't the old government of peace keepers, but a new idea where the people have a voice.

"Maybe you should do it," I say.

He looks at me with a bit of surprise as if the idea, coming from me, sounded totally foreign. He complains about this lack of time already and that he doesn't think anyone would be interested in hearing what he has to say.

"Peeta, that's nonsense. It isn't a very time intensive position. One meeting a month, two at the most. The council basically serves as a balance to the mayor on making decisions for our district and they will also give input to the Capitol on larger ideas that affect all the districts," she says.

"I'll think about it," he says.

Peeta then excuses himself to return to the bakery. Delly and I sit and catch up on the progress of the new school.

"We are bringing in new teachers, from different districts," she says excitedly.

"The best part is the vocational training center. We are going to have teachers that can help our kids learn skills they would need to work in the other districts, if they choose to," she says.

The vocational thing sounds neat to me. The only vocational training we ever got before was about coal. There was no need to learn how to fish and hunt or how to work with electricity because no one was permitted to travel between districts unless it was official business.

"You know Katniss, you could even teach kids how to hunt, or do things in the woods," she says.

"What would I know about teaching kids," I ask?

"You are the best shot around here, and in the whole nation probably. You could teach a class a couple days each week on how to hunt safely, how to shoot accurately, setting traps and whatever else it is you do out in the woods," she replies.

The idea begins to warm in my mind a little. I remember the joy my father felt when I hit the target for the first time, and when I brought down my first squirrel. Maybe that could be something I could give back to the district. My niche.

Over dinner, I mentioned to Peeta and Haymitch, who decided to invite himself, the idea of teaching a class on the outdoors life –hunting, trapping, shootings and what not.

"Sweetheart here as a teacher. I feel sorry for those kids already. Having to deal with you on a regular basis, bless their hearts," Haymitch spits out through bits of drunken laughter.

"Kiss my butt Haymitch," I fire back, a little perturbed at his finding this so funny.

"I think it's a great idea. You have a lot of knowledge about the outdoors, it could be a real benefit. Even more than the hunting and trapping, you could impart how to be safe out in the woods. With no laws keeping us inside the fence line, kids are bound to venture out there," Peeta replies.

So, with Delly's help, the idea is passed along to the Capitol rep that is overseeing the curriculum to be taught in our school. She seems very thrilled with the idea, and is sure that having someone with my fame and prestige will make it a hit.

It unnerves me how some people look at me as if I am some sort of celebrity. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself, especially outside of the district. I begin to think that this might not be such a good idea.

As summer fades into the latter part of August, the town is getting excited over the upcoming elections. Thom, who was Gale's friend from the mines, is a front-runner to become our new mayor. Peeta put his name on the ballot for the town council and seems likely to win a seat.

The school has been finished and I will be on staff as a vocational teacher. I will teach about being safe in the outdoors one afternoon and will teach a beginning archery class on another afternoon.

The class doesn't start until the first part of next month, but I am already sick over being in the spotlight again.

A phone call to Dr. Aurelius helped assuage some of the fear as he told me that becoming a contributing member to society would be a huge leap from where I was mentally just a short time ago.

However, I am still not convinced I can do it. I am also nervous about being around kids. Even though they are all at least 8 years old, I still feel uneasy about being responsible for them.

Peeta spends most of his nights trying to calm my fears and encouraging me. Haymitch stays at a distance and just snickers.

On the morning of the town elections, the town has a festive air to it. People are lined up at the town hall a full hour before the polling is to begin. I wish Peeta good luck and he just shrugs as if he isn't the least bit concerned. Deep down I know he wants to win a seat. The thought of being a part of laying our foundation is exciting to him.

Later that evening we have dinner and decide to go for a walk through the meadow. When we come to the field where the mass grave is, I am happy to see that it has been transformed into a nice park with benches and swings. There is a plaque mounted to tree that sits just to the right of where the hole was dug, paying tribute to all those that are buried there.

The grass has all grown back and you wouldn't know that this was the site of a mass grave for all those that used to walk the dusty paths before. It is hard to think about all that was lost, but I am glad to see the renewal and the sign of a future filled with hope.

The evening is relaxing. I haven't had nearly as many nightmares since that horrible one when we got back home and Peeta seems to be completely in control of any flashbacks. I can still see him grasping the chair from time to time, but it is only briefly.

When we make our way back home, Peeta turns on the television to see the results of the election. Thom has won the position of mayor by an overwhelming majority. Even though out of the 500 people living in the district, there is only about 100 or so that used to be from here, he still won the majority of the vote.

When the names of the town council are displayed, we both smile as we see Peeta's name proudly displayed on the screen. My husband, a member of the town council. "Well there goes our peaceful and happy life," I joke with a smile.

This summer has been something else. It has seen the love that I thought was gone forever find its way back into my heart. It has also seen a town rise up out of the ashes to become something to be proud of again.

I am excited for what the future holds for our district. What new opportunities will be opened to the people here? How will we truly embrace this opportunity at a new _first day_? Only time will tell, but it is looking very promising today.

**A/N**: Not the longest chapter and maybe not the most captivating. Even though the book leads us to believe that Katniss and Peeta simply baked and hunted for the rest of their days, I think their lives needed more fulfillment than that. So I went down the road of giving them new angles. I am planning to continue this series in seasons. So the next chapter would deal with the fall and then the next with the winter. I may skip forward a year or two, with the ultimate goal to paint some sort of image for my readers as to what life may have looked like between the end of MJ and the Epilogue.

Reviews are paramount now. Where would you go with this storyline? Thanks.


	9. Sharing

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in this chapter. Writers block and life. Revised this one several times. Hopefully on a good path…**

The district is coming back to life. We have a new mayor, and a _first_ town council. We will also see Katniss step outside the box a little (A little OOC from the book). Could it be a new path in life, or is there too much ingrained over time?

Thank you so much for the reviews. They are my inspiration to keep plugging away at this little adventure.

I do not claim to own anything related to the HG. All credit to SC.

**Sharing**

I can officially say that I have stared at the ceiling for the better part of the past four hours. I woke up around 2 am after a horrific nightmare where I lost a group of small children to a pack of wild capitol mutts. Since that time, I have been lying in bed taking in every detail of my bedroom ceiling.

I have counted that Peeta turned from front to back at least eight times. Sleep has completely eluded me and I don't think there is any remedy.

In just a couple hours, I will meet 12 eager faces in the meadow behind the new school building. I still can't believe I agreed to do this – be a teacher. Just two years ago, I was a recluse, hell bent on keeping my family fed and thinking of nothing else.

Now I am living in a new world, and on the outside, I appear to be a completely different person than I was on that reaping day – when my world changed. But on the inside, I don't feel any different. I am scared, withdrawn, easily pushed into a dark oblivion of depression.

My fight or flight instinct still dominates my life. I keep waiting for the bad to happen, and drain myself on most days when it doesn't come.

Peeta is my rock. On those dark days, he is the one that pulls me, so easily, back into a brighter reality. He can't erase the past, but says that it is what shapes us and helps us appreciate the present and hope for the future.

I know he struggles too. I can see it in his eyes and I catch him, often, staring aimlessly out the window. I never ask, but I imagine he is seeing his family.

New generations will wonder why we struggle so much right now with the past. It was oppressive, cruel, and painful. Life was anything but wonderful, yet it made sense to us. The price for a new life was steep and one that those of us who have survived will never be able to fully enjoy.

I can't lie here any longer. I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and gently ease my body up, using my hands to keep pressure on the mattress so I can slowly _escape_ without disturbing Peeta's slumber.

The sun is still an hour or so away, but my nerves are on edge. I tiptoe down the stairs, and into the kitchen. A few minutes later, I walk with my cup of hot tea toward the study. Peeta has turned this area into a makeshift art studio, but I keep a small desk in here.

I reach into the drawer and take out the journal. It has so many pages full of ramblings, but it is a way that I find solace. When this doesn't work, I find myself in the corner somewhere tying knots into a length of rope – a trick Finnick shared with me in 13.

_Hey Prim. I know you are smiling and maybe even laughing at the thought of me being so nervous to teach today. Even though it is something I know a lot about, I don't know if I have the patience or the nerves to share my knowledge with others. I wish you were here. You would tell me to quick being silly, and that everything was going to be alright. I keep waiting for everything to be alright, but each day, it's just not. I miss you and the time we used to spend just talking and laughing. You deserve to live in this world more than I do. You would be so much stronger than me. I love you so much._

_- Kat_

I close the journal and slide it back into the drawer. I have found that I can write on most days without losing it and crying. Today is one of those days.

The creaking of the floor over my head tells me that Peeta is up. Even though he has David to help him with the bakery, he still likes to be the one to fire the ovens, and get the kitchen set up for the day's work.

"Katniss? Are you down there," he asks?

"Yeah, I'm in the study," I reply and walk toward the door.

"What are you doing up so early. I thought you would sleep in a little since you didn't sleep much last night," he says.

So my attempts to remain quiet while I fought for sleep were unsuccessful.

"I'm sorry I kept you up. I just couldn't sleep," I mumbled.

"Kat, you are going to be great. I know it. Don't stress, relax, have fun, keep it simple and enjoy being outside," he says as his arms circle my waist.

I love the warmth of his touch. I can't explain it, but in that moment, my fears melt away and I am feeling _something else_. I raise my hands up to his face and bring his lips down on mine.

The urgency of this kiss isn't lost on Peeta as he matches my intensity and we manage to stumble toward the couch.

He wastes no time in removing my thin night shirt and our skin is electrified when it presses together. No matter how many times his hands caress my chest, or back, there is something different when it's our bare torsos pressed together.

The summer has been good to us as we have _perfected_ our skills in intimacy with one another. We were shy and backward at first, but with repetition and opening up to one another, we have learned each other so well.

Later, we are lying on the couch entangled with one another, our bodies covered in thin layers of sweat.

"I love you Peeta. You know just how to ease my mind," I slyly say with a bat of my eyes.

"I would love to take credit, but all I did was give you a hug. I think you planned to _jump_ me this morning," he playful responds.

The sunlight piercing the front window signals that our moment has made Peeta late, and I reluctantly allow him to break free and head up the stairs for a much needed shower.

I make a quick breakfast, pack it up so he can take it with him and meet him by the back door as he breezes through the kitchen.

A quick kiss, then a second, third and forth and he is out the door walking with a bit of _joy_ in his step. I hope that I can always make him happy. I hope that I can always be a distraction from an otherwise overwhelming existence.

After a quick bite of breakfast myself, I decide to get in a couple hours of hunting in the woods. I am not really concerned with killing anything today, but know that I need to wrap my head around the first school day.

Our town is steadily growing and upon completing the new medicine factory, we are sure to get an influx of new residents, which also means more children. But for now, we are starting our first school year since the war with a modest number of little ones.

The school that was built seems to be much more than we need, but the Capitol is preparing for a period of growth. With no more Hunger Games, adults are more likely to venture into the journey of creating big families.

But until that growth happens, our large school will only see five regular teachers and around 100 students in all grades. There has been talk about the future school being segmented into 13 separate grade levels, but for now we just have primary, junior, and senior age levels. I will be working with the kids from the junior and senior levels.

After the quickest few hours in my life, I am heading home for a quick shower and most likely a few moments of sheer terror, huddled in the corner of my bedroom.

When the clock reads noon, I know that I have to leave. Making my way downstairs, I find a small note stuck to the refrigerator, and recognize Peeta's delicate handwriting from across the room.

_Hey, you know you will be great. Just have fun and enjoy sharing your knowledge with these young ones. Love you, Peeta._

He always comes through for me. I would have never thought to leave him a note, but make a mental reminder that I need to be thoughtful like that.

Walking down the lane and toward the town square, the butterflies in my stomach are bouncing around like they are trying to burst from my insides. As I near the school, the fight or flight picks up and I am tempted to turn and run as fast as my legs will take me.

I hear a young girl as I open the door to the building, "I can't wait to get out in the woods. I am going to be just as good as she was in those games. I know it," she says.

I am filled with a momentary bit of pride and then the guilt washes over me as I am exposed. Somehow, I guess I thought everyone would forget the games, instantly as if by some magic spell. I especially didn't want the children to know who I was or what I had done.

Those same skills this young girl speaks of are skills that helped me murder innocent teenagers just like myself. I lean against the wall for a brief moment to get my bearings and let the grief pass.

"Hello Katniss. I am William Thomas, but you can call me Bill. Glad to see you made it. Looks like it will be a nice day to be outside, don't you think," he says?

I recognize Bill as the schools new administrator.

"Yes it's a great day to be outside. Hopefully the kids will enjoy it as well," I reply dryly

"Oh, I am sure they will love it. Being cooped up inside all day after the summer break tends to make them a bit overanxious to get back outside," he said.

"Well, I think you'll find all you need in this room, we call it the multi-purpose room. The bows and arrows are locked up in that closet and this is the key," he says motioning toward a locked door and handing me a silver key.

"Just be sure to log the bows you take out and then log them back in, so we can keep up with them. It took some doing to get the Capitol to send them," he says and then he is off walking down the hallway.

I spend a few minutes examining the bows and laugh a little at how unfamiliar they seem. They are wooden, much like mine are, but lack the feeling of passion and love. My bow was handcrafted by my father for the purpose of survival.

It was then passed on to me as a gift of love and with a sense of pride. I respect the power of my weapon and cherish its background.

I have another 30 minutes before the students will arrive, so I take 12 bows out of the cabinet, log them and then lock the door back.

Outside in the school courtyard, I find a row of new targets set up along the fence line. I decide to try the equipment out. Carefully selecting an arrow and knocking it on the string, I take a deep breath, a comfortable stance and draw the string back.

I focus on the center of the target and release the arrow. As if I have been shooting all my life, the arrow finds its mark in the center of the target. They may not be crafted like my bow, but their accuracy is dead on.

The class that I am teaching is beginning archery. I have combed my brain for the past two weeks trying to remember all the lessons my father taught me, but that was never formal. It was usually a learn-as-you-go approach.

I decided that the first few days would be focused on safety and respect for the power of the weapon. We would then work on the mechanics of shooting, and practice until we achieved perfection.

What I didn't count on in this master plan was the attitude of my students.

Promptly, at 1:00, the group of students made their way outside. There were four boys and eight girls. The boys were all in the junior level as were 5 of the girls. The other three girls were senior level students.

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Mellark. I will be teaching you the basics of archery over the next several weeks," I started. My voice is noticeably shaky. I take a deep breath to try and rein in my nerves.

"Has anyone ever used a bow before," I ask? It's good to try and gage any previous experience.

When no one raises their hand, I realize I have my work cut out for me.

I continue my lecture to explain that we will be focusing on safety for the first few meetings. We will learn about the dangers of using a bow and the responsibility that goes along with it.

The girls are giggling about something, and for some reason this hits a nerve. I quit speaking and stare at them, hoping the _attention_ will quell their laughter.

They quiet down and stare back at me.

"As I was saying, the first thing we need to do is learn how to be safe when we are shooting. Shooting can be fun, relaxing, and vital to...," I say, but catch myself. I am about to tell them that it can be vital to ensuring they have food to eat, but realize we don't live in that world anymore.

I spend the next 30 minutes talking about how to handle the bow, never pointing it at anything you don't intend to shoot, and never shooting anything you don't intend to kill. This brings on more laughter and giggles. All they can see are targets and seem uninterested in my determination to help them realize how dangerous these weapons can be.

Without thinking, I snap, "What is so funny? You won't think it's funny when you _screw_ up and shoot one of your friends. You won't be laughing when you are tormented by the nightmare of watching them die and you can't do anything about it."

Their eyes are all trained on me and I realize I have tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't mean to go there, but all I can do is see Rue, breathing her last shallow breaths in my arms. I see the boy, that I didn't even know, falling from the impact of my arrow.

I am reliving my first games in my mind. I realize I have lost it and let my voice get a bit loud when I see Bill standing at the top of the steps, intently watching this exchange.

I know that these kids are all old enough to have witnessed the games at some point in their lives. They just ended a year ago. But none of them has _experienced_ them like I have. To them, archery is just a sport, a fun activity maybe. I don't know.

I regain my composure and finish the lesson for the day. As I walk back with the bows toward the school building, Bill approaches.

"Katniss, is everything alright," he asks?

"I am sorry, I know I shouldn't be so hard on the kids, I just want them to know how dangerous this can be," I reply.

"There is nothing wrong with that, and I am glad you are concerned for their safety. I was just worried about you. Let me know if I can do anything to help," he says and then turns and walks back toward his office.

I don't know if I am cut out for this. I don't know if I am cut out for this new world. Even though the _former_ world saw so much hardship and heartache, I knew my place. I was a survivor and a provider. Now, I am expected to just forget everything and be a citizen of my district.

The next several class meetings go a little better. The students, either are afraid of me, or are actually learning to respect the activity, but are more intent on learning and some are actually getting good at shooting.

The other class that I was given to lead ended up being canceled as there are not enough kids yet. I am fine with this as I don't know that I could handle being in front of anyone else right now.

Peeta's Bakery is flourishing and he has hired two more employees. The weather is beginning to break as fall is quickly giving way to winter. This will be my first winter back in the district. I came home almost a year ago, but I was _dead_ to the world and don't recall much.

I remember that I love this time of year as the mornings are brisk, but the woods are alive with animals scurrying around preparing for the harsh elements that are quickly approaching.

One crisp fall evening, Peeta and I are sitting on the porch of the house, watching the breeze blow the dead leaves off the tree limbs. It's hard to believe that we have been married nearly half a year. It already feels like this is how we have always been.

Peeta has been so good to encourage me as I venture into this new idea of sharing my talents with young children. He listens as I describe my day, and smiles when I talk about something one of the younger kids said or did.

I didn't notice it at first, but I can see a hint of longing in his eyes every time I talk about the kids. It finally dawned on me tonight over dinner that I am probably tormenting him talking about something I am so unwilling to give him.

As we sit on the swing, I turn to him, "Peeta, are you frustrated with me?"

"Why would you say that," he calmly replies?

"You just seem to get this look on your face when I talk about the school or the _kids_," I reply.

The look that takes over his face gives me my answer, even though his response doesn't match it.

"I'm not frustrated. I love to hear about the kids at school. I am glad that you are having such a good time working with them and _being around them_.

His suggestive ending to that statement is an obvious hint that he is hoping this _exposure_ will loosen my resolve to have a family one day.

It doesn't help matters that David and Annabel welcomed their first child less than a week later.

Peeta came home with an excited announcement that they have a beautiful little girl. I smile and pretend to be as interested as he is, but deep down I am worried that this will spur a new round of _discussions_ about our family.

"I would like for you to go with me to visit them this evening, maybe we could even bring them dinner," he says with a look in his eyes that is nearly pleading with me.

"Sure, we can go visit," I say.

Before Peeta can turn to walk out of the room, I speak up, "Peeta, I am very happy for them, and I know that you are excited as well. I know you want a bigger family…"

"Katinss, this isn't about us. I am not trying to push you by visiting them and being around their baby. I love you and respect your feelings and needs. Please don't think I am using this opportunity to try and _push_ you into something you aren't ready for," he says cutting me off in mid sentence.

"Thank you. Thank you for loving me more than I deserve," I reply and cross the room with my arms open and ready. We hold each other for what seems like hours and I know that I am wrapped in a love that is beyond anything I could have ever imagined or hoped for.

Despite our conversation, I am still conflicted with emotions watching him coo at the little one. His eyes light up to a new shade of blue that is indescribable. His handling of this infant would suggest that he has been a father all his life.

I realize that Peeta is built for this and that he may never be complete without this experience in his life. I silently pray that I can somehow give him what his heart desires, someday.

When Annabel puts the little girl in my arms, I nearly cry out of anxiety and fear. She is not even mine to care for and I still feel so inadequate. After a few minutes though, I relax and let myself look at her features. So helpless, yet so alive.

I decide that this little girl represents our new world. We are so vulnerable and tentative, yet alive with a new energy.

On our walk home, Peeta holds my hand, but can sense the nervousness in my mood, so he doesn't mention anything about the baby at all.

I break the silence, "Peeta, she was really something amazing wasn't she?"

His look of surprise tells me that he didn't think I would open this door. "She sure is. David and Annabel are really blessed to have her. I am happy for them," he replies.

I decide to change the subject. "I am nervous about tomorrow. The first day in the woods with my class," I say.

For the first six weeks, we spent all our time learning about the safety of using a bow and arrow, shooting at targets, and learning about the woods. Tomorrow we will actually venture out into those woods.

"It will be fun. I know you are excited to get out in the woods. Just remember, they are learning, so they will probably walk a lot like I did the first time you dragged me around the woods," he says with a smile.

I can't smile. I am instantly filled with the images of the first games. I do recall how loud Peeta's footfall was and I was sure that we would starve or be attacked because of it. But just the mention of anything that jars those memories has me in a panic.

All of a sudden I am more nervous about being out there with them. What if I have flash-backs to those first games?

"I don't know if I can handle being out there with them," I say, my voice now shaking.

Peeta stops walking, turns me toward him and says, "Katniss, you have instincts, whether you want to admit it or not. It's human nature for a woman to be protective and caring. It's mothering. You will be fine with them in the woods. You will take care of them, and you will do what you have to do to make sure they are all safe and enjoy this learning experience."

I just smile, give him a warm kiss, and we continue walking toward our home.

That night, I spent some time in the study, writing to Prim. I told her of my nervousness, but assured her that I would take care of my class and I would enjoy sharing my passion for the woods and hunting with them.

The next day, I walked to school with a new found spring to my step.

I have a feeling of confidence that wasn't there. I know it's because of Peeta. I can attribute so much of my existence to him. Even though I spent the first 16 years of my life oblivious to him, he has been there, silently at first, and then more prominently, carrying me through the ups and downs of our lives.

For the first time in my life, I think I am truly beginning to understand the depth of love that he has for me and I know that mine matches it. I know there are no guarantees in life and our world could be shattered in a moment's notice, but I believe that I could stand through anything with him by my side.

When the class assembles in the field, I remind them of the rules that we will follow while out in the woods. I am thankful that Bill has decided to accompany us as an extra set of eyes to help me keep up with them.

Our task today, is really just to be out in the woods, talk about the different animal tracks and signs, and we will shoot some, getting used to the having nature as a backdrop rather than a nice manufactured target.

I chuckle to myself a little as I watch them move in a line towards the woods with their brightly colored vests draped around them. All my life, growing up, I tried to be an invisible presence when in the woods. Now, here we are dressed in garments that are visible for miles.

"Mrs. Mellark, thank you for teaching us," said one of the young girls.

Her comment, out of nowhere, surprises me. "You are welcome," I stutter.

The girl just smiles and scurries to catch up to her friends.

"You don't often get that in this line of work," said Bill.

He continued, "I know this has been an adjustment for you. Being an educator has taught me how to read people and gage their feelings a bit. I watched your interview during the first games and could instantly tell that you were out of your element," he says.

"That would be an understatement," I replied.

"But I have watched you blossom this year. You speak with confidence, and the students can pick up on that too. You have natural instincts and we are lucky to have you working with our kids," he said.

I smiled and nodded. I am glad that I took this job. I feel like I am contributing in some small way to the community. I longed for a way to be a part of the environment around me almost as if I owed some form of restitution for my part in the war.

One evening, several weeks later, after a town council meeting, Peeta comes in and exclaims that the town has decided to adopt an old holiday. Sometime in November, the town will celebrate a large feast to end the harvest period. There will be a fair of sorts where people will set up tables and sell their crafts and food, and then that evening, there will be a large banquet style meal in the town square.

Before the war, there was a fall festival that marked the end of the harvest season, and it was usually when we were subjected to our part of the victory tour. The air was always somber and downcast as it was a time to be reminded of two faces that were no longer with us.

This new idea of a festival that was shaped to be celebratory and fun seemed like a great alternative.

After dinner that night, I decided to go pay a visit to Haymitch. We haven't spent nearly as much time together since the beginning of the school year and I find myself missing him a little bit.

"Haymitch, are you in here?" I ask as I push open his front door. The normal odor of unkempt house doesn't immediately knock me down.

"Yeah, yeah sweetheart, just come on in like you own the place," he replies with a gruff.

"So you lost any of the kids yet?" he asks in a sarcastic tone.

"No, I have not lost anyone. Thanks for the vote of confidence," I reply.

"Peeta came home tonight from the council meeting and told me that the town is going to have a new harvest festival to celebrate the end of the harvest season. They are turning it into a holiday. Sounds like fun," I say.

Haymitch gets a look in his eye that is almost painful.

"What is it?" I ask.

"That's the last time I saw her," he replies with a shaky voice.

"The last time you saw who?" I pry.

Haymitch continues to stare out the window past me and I can see his eyes are glossy as he begins to tear up.

"When I won my game, the tour ended with our district, just like it did with yours. We had the Autumn festival. Before I left on the tour, I had sort of taken to a young woman named Maggie. She was two years younger than me, but we hit it off. I had decided that since I was a victor, I would ask her to marry me during the festival. We danced and laughed and just before it was over, I took her behind the building and proposed. That was the last time I saw her," he said.

It begins to make since in my mind. I knew that he mentioned something about having everything he loved taken from him. He was much like Johanna.

He then spoke again, "Sometime during the trip to the Capitol for the ending celebration of my victory, they informed me of an _accident_. Just like that she was gone. I took my first drink that night, and never stopped," he finished.

"Haymitch, I had no idea. I am so sorry," I said with tears streaming down my face.

"No one knows. I never spoke of her. I decided that night that I would never open up to anyone else. I wouldn't give the Capitol the satisfaction of taking anything else from me," he said.

"Kid that is why I took so much interest in you and lover boy over there, especially when we got back after the damn war, I knew you two had a chance, and somehow that made what I lost easier to deal with," he said.

When I left that evening, I had a newfound respect for Haymitch. He lost the one he cared most about and that was before they even had time to fall as deeply in love as I am with Peeta.

Over the next two weeks, preparations are made for the festival and the town has energy like never before.

Peeta will be especially busy as he wants to have a table as well as being tasked with preparing all the bread for the feast. The kids at school will even get the day off – a long weekend to celebrate with their families.

Since I will have this time off, I decide to give Peeta a hand in the Bakery. He gives me a few small tasks and I know that it is because my skills are _lacking_ in the kitchen. While I am mixing ingredients, Thom comes in.

"Katniss, I am glad I ran into you. I would like to see if you would be interested in organizing a hunting party to go out and collect wild game for the festival," he says.

Since the fall of the Capitol, more people have expressed an interest in being in the woods. There were others that hunted before, just like I did, but in those days being stealth was key and you never saw anyone else out there.

When the new government was put in place, District 12 decided to issue hunting permits to those that wanted to take up the activity. There were rules on when and how much you could hunt. Over the last year, several permits have been issued.

"Sure, I would love to help out with that," I replied.

Since my class meets in the afternoons, early morning hunting won't be a conflict.

I assemble a group of two men and one of my students who has excelled in her skill, to go into the woods and hunt for the feast meat.

We spend four straight mornings total hunting, and in the end, we have killed 10 deer and 14 turkeys. It was fun hunting in a group like this and it was especially rewarding when Danielle, the student in my class, took down her first kill.

The excitement in her eyes was something that I just couldn't describe and the joy I felt in my heart was unimaginable. I felt like I was watching my own child accomplish something so big in her life. I couldn't help acknowledge that I enjoyed that feeling.

The morning of the festival was a busy time in the Mellark household. Peeta was out the door before sunrise and I followed, shortly, behind him to help David and Annabel set up the table. Chloe, their daughter, was also there wide-eyed and giggly.

The air is filled with a festive attitude, kids are running and screaming, and everyone seems to forget that we are about to enter the harsh period of the winter months. This will be the first winter for me back in District 12. I was here at the end of the last winter, but I was pretty much dead to the world in grief and depression.

I recall a lot of fun memories of my father during winter. The conditions were harsh and there was often a lot of death and sickness, but my father and I spent so many cold crisp mornings in the woods, hunting and talking. It was those lessons, especially during that time of the year, that helped me keep my family fed and alive after he was gone.

As the day progresses, Peeta's table is a very popular stop. He has sold out of nearly everything he had. I have found myself smiling at the fun and festive mood and, for the first time in a long time, I am happy and grateful to be alive.

As afternoon gives way to evening, the town begins to assemble inside the new banquet hall that is part of the new town hall.

Inside the room, I am amazed at just how much we have grown in size. The feast is not something the town will plan each year, but they thought it would be fitting for the first celebration of this _new_ holiday.

Thom stands up at the podium and addresses the crowd.

"Citizens of District 12, I would like to welcome you to the first _Thanksgiving_ festival. The word was used in ancient times long ago and described a time when the people were thankful for the good that they had in their life. It has been a long time since we were able to publicly be _thankful_ for anything. But thanks to the bravery of so many, and the determination of those of you in this room, we are here and are able to be thankful for a new lease on life. We have risen from the ashes and are a shining beacon to the rest of Panem. I am thankful that you entrusted the leadership of this town to me and I am thankful to call myself a member of our district," he said.

The room erupts in applause and I am glowing deep inside my soul. Thom looked directly at me when he mentioned the bravery of so many, and I know he was speaking to my boldness to defy the Capitol. I don't know how I became the centerpiece for rebellion and the subsequent fall of the Capitol. I will live with guilt over so many lost lives, but I am filled with a bit of pride as well. I know that the end result of all that turmoil was this new chance at life.

Even as we are marching toward the hard winter months, there is a sense of energy and life springing up in every corner of our district. I am happy to be alive. I am happy to be able to carry on in the name of so many that gave their life to make this possible.

**A/N: Well this chapter was a long time coming. I hit a bit of a block and took some time away from my obsession for the HG series. I was excited at first to take the characters OCC, but as I started writing, I realized it was very hard to picture them as anything other than how SC created them. Hopefully I kept them somewhat close to their original while adding in a few little twists. Reviews are appreciated.**


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